


Time Can’t Change Everything

by GoatBazaarofFics



Series: Keep Your Wits About You [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Act II, Bipolar Anders, Canon-Typical Violence, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Mage-Templar War, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Not Beta Read, PTSD, Pre-Dragon Age: Inquisition, Pre-Relationship, Red Hawke, Rival Varric, Time Travel, Varric Tethras is a Good Friend, despite his anger, fenris is rather indifferent to red hawke, justice is done with mortals call him when the breach happens, memory lost, mentions of friend fiction, post-Chantry, rival fenris, varric isn't
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-06
Updated: 2017-10-22
Packaged: 2018-11-28 10:01:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 48,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11415564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoatBazaarofFics/pseuds/GoatBazaarofFics
Summary: Of course, the two mages in their group would find a statue that was bewitched to travel through time. Of course, it had been a Tevinter artifact. Of course, the statue was a hairless cat holding an hourglass.And naturally, it was the abomination who had to pick it up and coo at the hideous magical item as if it were a real cat.Fenris couldn’t help but blame Hawke.





	1. Magic and Mayhem

“Tell me why again we need to be here for our ‘Team Building Exercise’ be a better experience, Dwarf?” 

Fenris leaned against the entrance way to the Black Emporium. He was glaring at his companions as they bustled about the magical shop. He didn’t trust anything in the store; from the Mirror of Transformation to the enchanted jewelry to even the Urchin. Varric was currently trying to teach said Urchin how to play Wicked Grace.

“Because, Broody, Daisy suggested we go shopping before we went camping,” Varric didn’t to look from his cards. His back was hunched over from the extra weight of camping supplies, along with his trusted crossbow. He wasn’t sitting far from Fenris, he too was weary of the store. “And if Daisy wants something, Hawke will bend over to give her what she wants. The better question is why he had to go shopping _here_ specifically.”

Fenris grunted but didn't say anymore. He never understood Hawke’s love for the tiny blood mage, nor did he want to. He was of the mindset that Hawke was playing with a dangerous game and felt it was his duty to watch out for the other man, since he was incapable doing so himself. There are times he wondered why he bothered to follow Hawke into danger. Varric once suggested it was because, despite everything, life with Hawke was exciting. Fenris suppose. He did enjoy the company of the non-mages in Hawke's group. Though he did miss Bethany, even he slept better knowing she was safe within the Gallows. 

Fenris glanced around the room. Watching out for Hawke, also meant he needed to watch out for the others. Hawke was currently admiring a set of new daggers with Isabela. Aveline was examining to what looked like a plate made of copper, and from where Fenris stood, he could make out a flower design on it. Sebastian, the newest member of misfit group, was checking out the selection enchanted amulets. The fact Hawke made it no secret how he felt about the Chantry, it baffled Fenris the former Prince followed Hawke. He wasn’t there when Sebastian was recruited, so he could have missed something vital. However, the archer was a reasonable man. He had Fenris’s respect.

Fenris scanned the rest of the room for the mages. He scowled when he didn’t spot them. He straightened himself and leaned to either side to see if he could spot either of them. He would hate to make himself a fool to search those two out, but he would if it assured the safety of the group.

“They don’t need someone watching over them,”

Fenris looked down his scowled deepen. Varric was giving him a rather knowing look. He strongly disagreed with the dwarf. Merrill was a blood mage, and Anders harbored a demon. He didn’t say this, however. Varric had far more sense in one finger than Hawke had in his entire body, but he still cared for the mages as family. “I just want to make sure nothing happens while we are here.” Fenris replied.

Varric didn’t get a chance to respond. Xenon, the rather creepy shop owner, started to speak. 

“I……would……not……touch……that……if……I……was……you.”

Fenris stiffen. His eyes darted around the room. Hawke and Isabela stepped away from the daggers, their hands up in front of them as if they were caught stealing. The Chantry Brother gripped an amulet with one hand, and a coin purse in the other. His expression was comically one of pure terror, his eyes darted around. Aveline already stepped away from the copper plate, still she looked as if she had done something wrong. He felt Varric stood up beside him, going for Bianca.

And then Anders and Merrill stepped from behind Xenon’s seat and back into Fenris’s view. Merrill’s eyes were impossibly wide and she looked beyond guilty, but for once, Fenris could see she was innocent.

It was Anders who held onto some artifact in both hands. “Why not,” the mage’s voice was higher than what it normally was, and he too wore an expression of guilt.

The only response they got out of Xenon was a rather cryptic chuckle.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had this idea in my head for months now. After working nonstop on my original content, I needed a break and I'm writing this. I have a good chunk done, and I figured why start posting it now? I have other fanfics I need to get back into, but before I move onto them I need to get DA/fenders out of my system. I will add related works to this piece in a series, but nothing that would constitute as a sequel. 
> 
> I will try to post weekly.


	2. Tale of Two Wolves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to take this time to clarify that the present part of this story takes place just before act two. However, Anders and Sebastian's quests already happened, and in that order. Hawke and Merrill are in an established relationship prior to her quest. Some minor background that won't be mentioned in the fanfic. I also apologize that we're going to have a few doubles after this point and it might be hard to tell who's talking.

Fenris let out a groan of pain. He blinked awake but quickly shut his eyes. His head pounded as if he been hit repeatedly by a Qunari. He slowly opened his eyes, and he was greeted by tall grass. His ears twitched at the sound of others moaning and shuffling about. He rolled over onto his back. Above him were the tree branches, covered in a thick layer of leaves that mercifully blocked out most of the light.

Fenris didn’t bother getting up from where he laid when he heard someone moving closer to him. Varric’s face came into view, his expression was that of concern. “How ya feeling, Broody?”

Fenris blinked again and sat up with Varric’s help.

“I’m fine,” he said, but it was a lie. His head was throbbing.

“Yeah, my head feels like shit too.”

Before Fenris could retort, a spark of magic enveloped the area. Fenris turned to glare at the source, Anders. Whatever spell the mage casted had simultaneously cleared his headache, but also caused him pain.  

Fenris quickly got to his feet and stalked over to the mage. He ignored the disapproval from his companions as he hoisted the mage up by collar. “What did you do?” Fenris asked through gritted teeth.

“I didn’t do anything.” Anders snapped and pulled away out of Fenris’s grip. In the corner of his right eye, Fenris saw Hawke moved to stand between himself and the mage.

“What was that you were holding?” Hawke took on a no-nonsense tone, putting an end to any further confrontation.

“It was a cat statue holding an hour glass.” Fenris looked over at Merrill, who was now standing next Anders. “I saw it tucked near that mirror in the back. I pointed it out to Anders.” Fenris returned his gaze back at the mage. Or course. 

“It was a Tevinter Hairless,” Anders said with his head held high. “It was cute.”

Of course, it was a Tevinter cat.  What else would it be?

“You’re shitting me,” Isabela joined in on the conversation, standing next to Merrill. Fenris glanced around the misshaped circle. Varric saddled to next him and Hawke. On his left stood Sebastian, and then Aveline had moved beside Anders. She gave the mage a rather disapproving look one only reserved for their child.

“It’s true! It was rather cute, despite being all wrinkly.” Merrill chimed up.

“And this cute statue, which I’m assuming was actually a Tevinter artifact, is what brought us here?” Hawke gestured around them. At that moment, everyone started to get a good look at their surroundings.

It was clear they were a forest, but it was no forest Fenris recognized to be near Kirkwall. The trees towered over them. There seemed to be far and few between, but the vegetation was so thick that the trees blocked out the sun. Off in the distance, he could hear the sound of running water. There were also birds chirping overhead, though besides for that, the forest was quiet. It seemed like the forest was normal, but its normalcy did nothing to tell them where they were. 

“Where are we?” Anders asked the question that was on everyone’s mind.

Before anyone could answer, a voice Fenris knew quite well had cut through the silence, “I can answer that.”

Fenris’s eyes widen. That was his voice. _It was his voice_. This had to be work of demon. A demon stole his voice. Fenris refused to turn around and face the demon that stole _his voice._ Instead, he watched everyone else’s reaction. The witch let out a gasp and covered her mouth. Isabela took a step forward to get a better look, while Sebastian took one back as to flee. The mage’s mouth hung open, and his eyes darted back to Fenris and whatever was behind him. Aveline and Hawke had pulled out their weapons. It was the _‘well shit’_ from Varric that forced Fenris to look, however.

Slowly, Fenris turned to face the creature that had his voice. What he expected to be behind him, was not what he got.

It was him. Not an exact copy. But it was undoubtedly _him_. This thing had similar armor; it was darker and styled for colder weather, but it was so similar to what Fenris wore daily. It had the same kind of sword. It had the exact same gauntlets Fenris had on right then. It even stood like Fenris; it crossed its arms like Fenris. It had his face, his tattoos, his bare feet. It was him, but it wasn't. The only difference Fenris saw was this other _him_  had long hair, but even then, their bangs matched. What trickery is this? 

Hawke stepped closer, twirling his daggers. “Who or _what_ are you?”

The imposter looked rather unimpressed, “don’t be a fool, Hawke. I have no time for it.”

“Well make time,” Hawke demanded. The rogue chanced a look at Fenris, and that is all it took to tell Fenris that Hawke was gearing up for a tough fight. 

“Venhedis!” The impostor swore and snarled at Hawke. If that was what Fenris looked like when he glared, then it was no wonder others recoiled when he was mad. “I forgot how willing you are to fight everything in your path.” The imposter jabbed a clawed hand at Hawke. “How you were not the death of us is beyond my comprehension.” Fenris reluctantly agreed. “Does anyone with some sense want to take this conversation over?”

Varric decided he was someone with sense, and moved next to Hawke, “relax, Killer, let’s ask questions first. If we don’t like what we here, we can take out Broody’s copycat afterward.” With an easy stride, Varric walked close to the impostor. “So, you know where we’re at then?”

The imposter relaxed at Varric's words, but Fenris did not. He readied himself in case the imposter attacked his friend. If this other elf fought like him, he did not want Varric get caught in the crosshairs. “I do know the where, and also the when,” a pause, “and the _how._ ” There was another odd pause before Fenris heard the sound snickering from behind him. Fenris looked at saw the mage covered his mouth and laughing at a private joke. Fenris narrowed his eyes. No one except the imposter. Fenris returned his focus on the imposter. Who smirked at the blonde human...

The imposter coughed, but hiding his amusement behind his fist, “right.” He composed himself once more, “we are in the Brecilian Forest—

“That’s in Ferelden!” Merrill had blurted out. “Some Dalish clans travel through here. Not mine, but I’ve heard stories!”

 “Yes.” The imposter said through gritted teeth, annoyed at the interruption. "We are in Ferelden.”

“How did we get here exactly?” Varric asked, “and I correct me if I’m wrong, but did you say _when_?”

The impostor sighed and what took years of practice, rubbed his temples without scratching himself. “It was that cat statue. I do not know how, nor why, but it was bewitched to travel through time. You are in the future. The year is 9:41.” He finsihed bluntly. 

The older elf allowed the knowledge to sink in. Fenris didn't believe him for a moment. Time travel didn't exist. He heard whispers of such magic while serving Danarius and his colleagues, but from his limited understanding, they were just whispers. Fenris glanced at Hawke, and he could see the rogue didn’t think the imposter was telling the truth. He looked behind him to gauge out what the others thought. Isabela looked bored, but in the short time he had known the woman, he could read her Wicked Grace face. Her eyes told him she had a bad hand, and she didn't like where this game was going. Sebastian and Aveline shared looks and then with him. They didn't buy it either. Merrill looked excited at the idea of time travel-not shocking. It was the mage who shocked Fenris. The blonde human marched forward with a determined look on his face. 

He stopped short when he was within heart-ripping reach. “If you’re telling the truth and we’re really in the future, and you're well, Fenris, then I’m sorry. I’m going to use magic on you.”

“Why?” The impostor asked, his scowl had returned.

Always for the dramatics, Anders let out an overexaggerated huff. “It will tell us if you’re at least real and not a mage playing tricks on us.” His voice took on a condescending tone, and Fenris bristled. The words and attitude might not be directed at him personally, but that didn’t stop him feeling as it were.

The imposter’s lips thinned, clearly hating the condescension either. “Very well, mage, do your test.” The word mage wasn't spat out as an insult, and his voice didn’t match his visible annoyance. If this person was supposed to be him from the future, then why did he readily agree to Anders using magic on him? The longer they let the imposter live, the worse it would be when he showed his true colors.

Anders, for once, stayed quiet as he sent wave a wave of magic on the other elf for several seconds. The elf flinched, and his face contorted into irritation every time a magic blast hit him. When he was done, Anders faced the others and just shrugged. “There’s no dubious magic involved here, and Justice can't sense demons.”

The imposter folded his arms again, however, it was more out a defense over intimidation. “Are we done?”

Hawke grew up in a family full of mages. He was weary of foreign magic, and wouldn't hesitate to kill a mage when he needed to, but he trusted Anders like he trusted Bethany. It was a point of contention between Fenris and Hawke. So, even though, Anders barely did anything to prove this man's story, Hawke accepted it. And it made Fenris hate himself, he knew he would follow Hawke's poor decision.  The rogue put his weapons away and spoke again. “If Anders didn’t find anything of the sort…then well, fuck. We’re seriously in the future, aren’t we?” He ran his hand through his hair, looking around at everyone else. Fenris was baffled. How did the mage prove we're in the future? Did his mother drop Hawke repeatedly as a child? He would need to run this theory by Varric next time the dwarf came over for wine.

“If it is any consolation,” older him started, giving a little shrug, “I know how bizarre it is to time travel.”

Aveline snorted, “I bet.” She too had put her weapon away, going along with Hawke too. “Is there a reason why we ended up here?” She asked the older Fenris.

“I don’t remember much, just feeling distressed about the situation. I tried pushing it out of mind with wine.”

Fenris scoffed, and looked at the ground. He wished he had wine right now. 

“Ay, time travel seems rather impossible,” Sebastian interjected.

“It’s supposed to be impossible,” Anders pointed out, “but clearly, someone in Tevinter made it possible.”

“I think it’s quite fascinating!” Merrill piped up.

The older Fenris rolled his eyes at the blood mage, “Yes, having unknown magic that thrusts you into the future is fascinating. Now that’s established that most of you think I am telling the truth," Fenris looked up at that, the other elf gave him a look of understanding. "We need to focus on what’s important.”

“I’ll say,” Isabela swaggered up to the older elf without a hint of worry. The older elf eyed her as she got closer, “I want to know what made you grow out that lovely, sexy hair of yours?” She tried to touch his hair, but her hand was slapped for her efforts. The pirate wasn’t bothered in the slightest, however. In fact, she smiled rather broadly, as if she expected that to happen. 

“Keep your hands to yourself, pirate!” He snapped, at the same time Fenris shouted, “he is not a pet!”

Isabela cackled and clapped, “oh this will be fun!”

“Stop pissing off Fenris and ah, other Fenris, Izzy,” Hawke chided. He went back to address the older elf. “Are you the only one who remembers? Maybe future Merrill or Anders might recall how we can get back are just around the corner.”

Something flashed in the elf's eyes when Anders's name was mentioned, but it was gone as fast it came. “Neither one of them remembers what happened to them. I believe it was because they were at the center of the spell. The reason why I tried to pretend that it didn't myself because I thought only I experienced it. That I was hallucinating.” Fenris unconsciously nodded. He held onto his memories, the bad and the good because he had precious few. If he thought the memories were fake, however, he could see trying to rid himself of them. “I locked myself in my mansion for days doing nothing but drinking. That is until one day, Varric had shown up to talk to me about it.”

“Oh-ho-ho, so I’m going to remember?” Varric asked in rather cheerful voice.

The older him let out an exasperated sigh, “Yes. I believe him and I were the only ones who did. Unfortunately." He glared down at the dwarf. "He took advantage of my drunken state and roped me into a bet that I strongly regret taking. And no, I will not pay _you_ what I owe _him_ , so don’t ask, Dwarf.”

Varric held up his hands in defense, “Who am I to swindle out some poor writer of their well-earned money?”

“This doesn’t help us figure why we are here of all places.” Aveline steered the conversation back to the main topic at hand.

“Maybe we should figure out why Gramps is here.” Hawke chuckled at the rude gesture older Fenris sent him. "There any imptortant reason why you're here?"

“I am here because from this happened to me. It's one of the few solid memories I have when I time traveled. Meeting _my_ older self and being suspicious of _him.”_   Then, the older Fenris started to inspect his feet and the tip of his ears turned pink. “Also, last week was my anniversary, and my husband wanted to travel.” He added after a moment.

The reactions were simultaneous.

“ _Husband?!”_ Fenris shouted far too loudly than he tended.

 _“Who would marry you?”_ Anders screeched.

“Who’s the lucky bastard?” Isabela and Hawke said at once and gave each other high fives for saying it at the same time.

“Congrats, Broody!”

“Oh, I am so happy for you lethallin!” Merrill chirped. The tiny Dalish woman rushed over to the older elf and gave him a tight hug. Aveline and Sebastian’s congratulations were lost in all the noise.

 


	3. A Ring Forged in Blood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few things before we move on to this next chapter. First, I updated the tags today after I finished editing the next two chapters. I didn't think I would need to after chapter four, even though it's from past!Fenris pov and he has some unsavory thoughts. But how chapter five went, I knew I had to update the tags. If you wish to blame someone for forcing my hand, look to BioWare's favorite feather mage. 
> 
> Second, we got a new perspective this chapter. Future Fenris. 
> 
> And finally, I drew art of future Fenris and Anders http://the-goat-bazaar-of-art.tumblr.com/post/163082888464/after-several-days-i-finished-i-never-thought So if you want a reference.

Fenris led the group through the winding woods, trying and failing to listen to potential threats. From the stories Commander Surana had about the Brecilian Forest, it was ripe with danger. Werewolves, revenants, and reanimated skeletons, killer trees, and groups of bandits.

And something about a mad hermit who lived in a tree trunk? Fenris once thought his life traveling with Hawke was bizarre, and then he met and lived with Surana.

But it wasn’t the wild stories the Warden-Commander had told Fenris that distracted him. It was seeing the family he built in Kirkwall before the major trials and heartaches had sent in. He missed this, what they had as a group. He missed Kirkwall. For all the city’s faults, it had been his home. He glanced over his shoulder and his heart ached with a dull pain of nostalgia.

Merrill was talking nonstop to Hawke, his arm around her shoulder pulling her close. The both of them free of what has yet to come, and had already passed. This was Hawke before he cradled his dead mother. Before the Arishok duel that broke him. Before Meredith ran him into the ground, forcing him to do her dirty work. Before the worried lines and gray strands peppered his hair, as he watched the city he killed and fought for caved in itself. Before he was bound and chained to the fate of a cursed city. This was Merrill before The Keeper became possessed. Before she was forced to fight and kill her clan for survival.

Beyond them was Aveline, Vael, and his younger self. Aveline with a proud smile. Vael with a look of contentment. His younger self just happy to be included as an equal. Fenris missed Aveline the most. He hadn’t seen the woman in four years. How was she faring? What of Donnic? The Guard? Was she taking care of them and the city? Was someone taking care of her? Was someone pulling her away from her job ever so often? Fenris knew how hard it was to care for someone who’s heart was too big and was dedicated to a cause.

His eyes narrowed when he looked at Vael, but then they soften. This Sebastian wouldn’t see Kirkwall destroyed again for a man who doesn’t live there anymore. In the next couple months, his younger self will see Vael as his best friend. He missed their long, philosophical conversations. He missed the easy comradery that the archer offered. Vael supported Fenris’s spiritual growth. He understood and blessed Fenris’s relationship. But if he could go back and choose between Anders or Vael, he would choose Anders over and over again.

And then there was Isabela, Varric, and Anders at the end of the pack. They were joking and laughing, about what, he could only guess. To see the three of them, pained Fenris the most. Varric barely forgave Isabela for what she did in Kirkwall, but he will never forgive Anders it seemed.

 _“Rivaini wasn’t the one pulling the trigger.”_ The dwarf once told Fenris. He pointed out that everyone gave Isabela a second chance without condemnation.

_“Is there a difference? Lives were still lost.”_

_“There’s a huge difference. Bodies are still being added to Blondie’s count. It won’t stop until the war ends.”_

Fenris knew it wasn’t right to blame what happened in that final hour of Kirkwall on Anders, but Varric did. The anger he felt for Anders ran deeper than his anger toward his brother and Isabela.  

Seeing his friends brought back an onslaught of emotions Fenris didn’t know he had. And that worried him. Not for himself, but for his lover. Anders’s mind was a fragile one. He also couldn’t control his emotions, even with Justice’s assistance. He couldn’t just drop all this on Anders’s lap without a warning. Unless, Anders remembered when it happened to them? Or maybe the spirit did?

Fenris silently groaned at his own stupidity. Why hadn’t he thought about Justice? The spirit’s memory shouldn’t be effected. Right? But then again, after seven years of being together, Anders would have mentioned it, or Justice would have taken over and told Fenris. Either one would have said something when Fenris suggested taking trip to Brecilian Forest. It would be _unjust_ to keep something as important as time travel a secret. Anders and Justice had only kept one secret from Fenris, and that was The Chantry. 

He stopped a short distance away from their camp, halting the party. He spoke before there could be any objections. “I’m going up ahead to give my husband some warning.”

Hawke let out an undignified snort. “Your man not used to the weird and strange?” Hawke didn’t have a clue. Anders was weird and strange.

With a small smile, Fenris replied, “something like that.” He bounded up a side of a hill, and off the main path. Before he got too far, he called over his shoulder, “Do not do anything Aveline wouldn’t do.”

He turned and left, catching Isabela’s retort, “so nothing fun?

Fenris chuckled as he made his way pass a grave site. He felt the Veil’s pull, but it did not bother him like it had bothered Anders. Based on the drunken stories that Anders’s fellow wardens had told them, that might have been where one of the revenants came from. He was grateful Surana came through here a decade ago, revenants always targeted mages in his experience. Fenris had plenty of nightmares to last him a life time of armored and well-armed figures going after Anders.

Pass the gravestone, Fenris spotted the white canopy that strung up between two trees. He picked up the faint whiff of boiling elfroot. An idea popped into his head. It would only have worked if Anders had his back turned at the right moment. With a playful smirk, Fenris made his way to the camp site with as much stealth he could. He peaked around the canopy and took the scene in. They had a decent tent in the middle of the clearing, but the three days they laid out on furs to sleep on. The secluded area near a cliff. Anders chose the spot so he could talk to the rhyming oak tree that was in the small valley below of the tree’s comfort. Something about it not having to look down. Fenris didn’t care. The ancient creature unnerved him and he wanted nothing to do with it. Much to Fenris’s relief, neither Anders nor Justice were conversing the tree when he got there.

Instead his lover sitting in front of a pot over a fire, his staff laid next to him. His back hunched over a book, his hair was down in red-gold waves. And most importantly, his back was turned, facing Fenris. Fenris could tell that the mage was also wearing form-fitting robes that he loved so much. They were dark blue, a perfect shade to complement his hair. His playful smirk turned into a grin. Fenris pulled back and unhooked his sword with careful ease. He shouldn’t leave out of his sight, but he was a living weapon and left outside against the tree. He slid passed the canopy and crept silently up to the mage.

In one swift motion, Fenris covered Anders eyes with one hand and grabbed his neck with the other. Anders let out a surprised gasp but didn’t fight him off. Fenris leaned forward, his mouth close to the mage’s ear.

“What’s a pretty little thing like you doing out here alone?” He whispered in a low voice. He kissed just below Anders’s ear, earning another gasp.

“Please don’t hurt me, messere, I’ll do anything,” Anders took on the role of a dainty maiden, his voice higher, weaker.

“Look at you,” Fenris growled. His clawed fingers trailed from Anders’s neck down his chest. Careful not to rip his favorite robes. “So willing, so eager to be used.”

“I’ll do anything you want me to do, I don’t want you to hurt me,” Anders whispered.

Fenris trailed kisses down the side of Anders’s neck. “Maybe I want you to hurt,” and bit down for emphases. Anders arched back, and his breath hitched.

“How can I say no?” And then Anders broke character and wiggled out of Fenris’s grasp. “Unfortunately, I have to, love. I need to watch my potion; it’s almost done.”

Fenris scooted back to give Anders room to move. Anders crawled into Fenris’s lap, his arms wrapped around the elf’s neck. He planted a kiss on the elf’s temple as Fenris pulled him closer.

Anders flashed him a bright smile, which Fenris returned. “How was your walk, love?”

Fenris looked down, his mouth set in a thin line. “Not as well as I had hoped.”

Anders frowned. “What’s wrong?”

He thought for a moment on how should answer. “Do you remember those trips Hawke had forces us to be part of? The ‘Team Building’ ones?”

“Maker, yes. Some of those were down right dreadful. I was almost dragon food,” Anders said, exasperated by the memory. And then he smiled again, “I would have been if weren’t for my strong and handsome knight who rescued me.”

Fenris chuckled. “It seems I have competition.” He quickly focused back on topic. “On one of those trips, there was an accident, of the magical variety.”

Anders scoffed. “Of course, there was. It’s Kirkwall. That whole damned place is a giant magical accident.”

“That is one way to describe Kirkwall.” Fenris muttered under his breath, before continuing, “The accident is rather hard to describe, I will be blunt. We, us and our friends, traveled through time.”

Anders laughed, “Oh please, I think I would remember something like that.” Fenris gave him a look. “You’re joking. Right?”

“When have I been known to joke about something like this, mage?” He drawled.

Anders searched his face, his eyes widen at how serious Fenris was. “You’re not joking.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “Maker, time travel shouldn’t even be possible. Why don’t I remember?” His eyes became blank and stared off into nothing. Fenris knew that look. “He doesn’t even know what you’re talking about.”

“The spirit doesn’t remember either?”

Instead of Anders answering for Justice, blue cracks appeared across his body and his eyes turned a radiant blue. Fenris didn’t flinch away at Justice taking over, just blinked at the sudden burst of light. There was no change in their position, except that Justice sat straighter.

“Why was our mind effected, but not you?” The spirit demanded.

Fenris thought for a moment. “Anders was the focal point of the spell. I was on the other side of the shop.”

Justice’s brows furrowed into a glare. “Are you insinuating this was Anders fault?”

Fenris rolled his eyes. “It was _his_ fault. What sent us into the future had been a cursed statue of a _cat_.”

Justice stared for a moment, and then covered his face with both hands. Fenris couldn’t help but smirk. It was something he’d seen only Justice do when he was specifically annoyed with Anders. “His fetish for those tiny creatures will be the end of us.” The spirit stated blandly. “Why did you bring this up now?”

 “On my walk, I found them, us. The younger version of us They are currently waiting for you and me to return and help them with their situation.”

“Then we must not dally.”

“Agreed,” Fenris said, as he leaned in and kissed the spirit’s temple. Then the smell of something burning insulted his nose. “I think Anders’s potion is burning.”

Justice sniffed and his eyes widen. Anders took over and yelled “shit!” The mage flew off Fenris’s lap and scrambled over to his potion to salvage it, all the while muttering loudly about ‘sexy, distracting elves’. Fenris shook his head in amusement and got up. He walked over to their tent to dig for out outwear for Anders. It was a sleeveless, knee-length vest that was styled after his old black coat. Complete with too many feathers and buckles to be fashionable.

When he returned, Anders was stirring the potion with a satisfied smile. “Good news, love, my potion wasn’t damaged. It can be bottled when we get back.” He stood and met Fenris.

“Will it be cool enough to bottle when we get back?” He held out the vest for Anders to slip it on.

“Yes, I think so.” Anders tugged the vest on and turned around. He tightened the buckles. “Did you tell them about us? Or they from a time we’re together.”

“I told them I am married.”

Anders looked up, “but not to me. Maker, this will be a headache. My younger self is going to screech.”

Fenris hummed in agreement. “He already did. His exact words were ‘who would marry you.’” He pulled the tall human in close, wrapping his arms around his middle. “Who indeed. Hopefully someone with nice legs and a cute butt.”

“I knew it! You only want me for my body.” Anders fake gasp.

“Your body is an added bonus. And I fear not many others could put up with me like you can.”

“Not many people would like their wedding ring enchanted to resist blood magic.” Anders quipped. “So that just means you’re stuck with me.”

“A shame, truly.” Fenris deadpanned. He stood on his tiptoes and Anders met him half way for a chaste kiss. He pulled back and grew serious. “I don’t want you take what my younger self will say to heart. Either of you.”

“We won’t.” Deep echoes reverberated on the edge of Anders’s voice. They disappeared when he continued. “You don’t have to worry, love. The same goes for you too. I was quite awful back then.”

“Your still awful,” he smirked. He stood on his tip-toes and gave Anders a chaste kiss.

“Uh, no. I’m perfect.” Anders flashed one of his half smiles. “Well, as Surana always told me: let’s meet this shit-show head first. Of course, he always caused the shit show in the first place.”

“Something you two have in common. Must be a mage thing.”

Anders playfully pushed Fenris back. He pulled his hair carelessly into a messy half ponytail before grabbing his staff and pushing passed the canopy, leaving Fenris behind. After he rushed to strap on his sword, Fenris caught up with the mage short moment later.

“You don’t know where you’re going.”

“I can sense my younger self, so yes I do.” Anders reached and grasped Fenris’s hand.

Fenris hadn’t thought about that. “I suppose that means he can sense you too.”

“Yes. He’s probably rather confused. Trying to think if he knows the warden he senses. He’s probably picturing you with Nate.” Anders said while waggling his eyebrows.

Fenris sighed. He knew what Anders was talking about. It was a reference to one of many smutty, short stories Isabela wrote and published. They all centered around her friends or people she was closed to. The one in question made his friendship with the Warden archer uncomfortable months after the book was published. It didn’t help Merrill illustrated in high detail several of the short stories.

“You better not give him that trash. I know you still have it.” Fenris grumbled. Him being the other Anders.

“I love that book! I never knew how talented of writer Isabela is. And Merrill is a fantastic artist. She got yours and Nate’s likeness perfectly. And besides,” he added bitterly. “You still have Varric’s book.” Fenris’s gut twisted at the sound of Anders’s voice. He knew how much the novel hurt the mage, despite understanding Varric’s rage. Fenris didn’t know why he kept the “Tale of the Champion”. He wasn’t fan of the book either. The amount that was wrong with the novel was outstanding. Varric had completely removed Fenris’s relationship with Anders, made Anders a delusional lunatic, distorted Hawke’s personality from a violent, but well-attention man to homicidal sociopath, and turned Kirkwall’s First Enchanter into a horrific abomination, that according to Anders, couldn’t even be possible. Fenris didn’t even know Varric put that in there at the last minute.

“The dwarf’s inaccurate depiction of Hawke’s life is far more entertaining than reading the pirate’s collection of smut.” But if Fenris was going to choose to defend one of his friends’ written works, it would be Varric’s. The dwarf didn’t write Fenris’s loving relationship into his novel, but he also didn’t turn it into a master-slave dynamic as the pirate had.

“I don’t know,” Anders went back to being cheeky, “I personally enjoyed the one about Commander Surana and Cullen, even if she made the commander a woman. It was positively tragic.”

Fenris snorted. “You like it because Isabela had you push Cullen out a window.” Anders grin grew even larger but didn’t comment any further. They were nearing where he had left their younger versions of themselves and friends, and he could hear the conversation from the clearing below. They stopped for a moment to listen in.

“Where the fuck is the prickly bastard? He just fucked off somewhere, never came back.” Hawke said.

“He said it was his anniversary. Maybe he’s getting in some alone time with his husband.” Isabela suggested.

“Will you stop imagining my future sex life?” His younger self asked. “This whole experience is cumbersome as is, you do not need to add to it. And I am not a prickly bastard. Insult me again, Hawke.”

“Yeah, Bela, get your head out of the sewer.” The younger Anders mocked, while Hawke defended his insult, “I didn’t insult you. I insulted future you. There’s a difference.”

“Says the hobo wizard who lives in the sewer,” Isabela quipped. Her voice carried over the argument between himself and Hawke.

“Oh, that’s a low blow,” Anders pretended to be hurt. “Besides I think they’re here anyway. Spying on us.”

“How do you figure that, Blondie?”

“Well, I can sense darkspawn taint, just up there. He’s a Gray Warden.” Anders explained.  
“You can come out, we won’t bite.” He said a bit louder.

Without warning, his Anders yelled out, “Maybe I like being bitten.” He covered his mouth and began to snicker at the stun silence that followed.

Fenris was momentarily dumbfounded, and then he scowled at his lover. “That is not how we should have gone about this.”

Anders’s face scrunched up and the elf knew that Justice was giving him a mental lashing, “I hate it when you two gang up on me. I happen to think it’s funny.” He held his head high and continued his way down the hill. Fenris followed, glad to know he wasn’t alone to deal with the mage’s foolishness. However, when he saw the slacked jawed expressions, he decided he would keep his amusement to himself.

Fenris slid down the steep inclined and landed next to Anders, who was brushing off the dirt on his robes. On his other side, stood Izabela. Nearly everyone else either sat or stood across from the two of them. Seconds passed and no one said a word. Everyone just stared at the married couple. Isabela even moved to get a better look. It was wearing Fenris’s short, albeit approved, nerves.

“Well, are you going to introduced me,” All heads turned to the Anders next to him, while he looked at Fenris expectedly. “Or do I have to introduce myself.”

It started out slow, but soon Hawke was doubling over in laughter, and Fenris was reminded how they came out as a couple seven years ago.

Hawke wiped his eyes. “Oh man, I haven’t laughed that damn hard in forever. It’s nice that you two are getting along in the future you can pull off a joke.” Isabela and Varric chuckled, mostly at Hawke’s reaction, and everyone else ease up a bit.  

Anders put his free hand on his hip. “Maker, I’m not doing this shit again. It isn’t a joke. We’re married.”

The younger Anders mimicked the pose. “You actually think we’re going to believe that you two are married? That we’re going to be married. Because I don’t buy it.”

“I don’t care if you buy it or not. We’re married. You two will get married.” He shot back. “Maker, don’t be an idiot.”

“I’m the idiot? You’re the one who married bigoted, wild dog!” Straight to the dog comparisons. Leave to Anders to escalate a situation.

Several people tried to speak at once, the younger Fenris looked down right murderous, but they were all cut off by Anders. “Don’t you dare call him that! You…you, big-nose freak of nature!” Fenris was taken aback. He thought his mage had a lovely nose to match his lovely face.

The younger Anders gasped, clapped a hand over his nose, and pointed. “That might be true, but your hair is an ugly color!” That wasn’t true, Fenris thought. Anders’s was gorgeous. But the words had the desired effect. And soon, Anders and Anders were yelling at each other, their voices overlapping. They used personal insecurities that only they would know how to use. It was an unintelligible, self- deprecating argument that only Anders could have with himself.

Fenris moved to intervene but stopped when he felt the familiar pull from the Fade.

“Enough!” Justice surged forward, and took over the older of the two. Everyone stepped back, even Anders, though there was blue in his eyes telling the elf that the other spirit was listening. “This petty behavior serves no one! Insulting yourself will not aide your quest to return to your proper time and place. Fenris had informed me that is was you who caused this injustice to befall on your allies. You must make it Right.” Justice struck the ground twice with his staff during his rant, and it made Fenris winced. It was something the spirit did without thought, but brought back memories Fenris wished he could forget. Justice, unware of his plight, turned to Fenris. “Come, we will take to them to The Grand Oak. He could provide Wisdom to help us in our cause.”

Fenris’s face scrunched up, “do we have to?”

“Uh, did you just say an oak tree can give us wisdom?” Hawke asked.

“The Grand Oak is an ancient being a of great Knowledge and power.” Justice answered.

 “It also speaks in rhyme.” Fenris deadpanned

“And it does this how?” Aveline asked, though he knew the guardswoman already knew.

“It is possessed by one of my brothers. A Spirit of Wisdom.”

The younger Fenris didn’t like that answer. “The demon—

“ _Spirit_!” Fenris corrected immediately. Anders wasn’t the only one who would fight his younger self.

“The _spirit_ ,” he spat out as if it was a curse, “is suggesting we speak to a possessed tree that rhymes about how to travel back in time? Do I understand this correctly? Is this what’s happening?”

“When you put it that way, Broody, it sounds nuts.” Varric chuckled at his own joke.

“I think it’s marvelous!” Merrill clapped her hands. “The trees always want to attack, never talk! And the three of you met one that rhymes!”

“Well I think it sounds awful.” Anders whined. “Justice, didn’t you get tired of walking trees from our time with the Wardens? How do we know it won’t eat us?”

“The Grand Oak is not being controlled by a Dalish woman consumed by misguided Vengeance,” Justice’s tone of voice took on the air finality, telling everyone involved that the conversation was over. Fenris rather enjoyed when Justice sounded this way, it never failed to send a jolt down his spine. “We should not stay out in the open. We will attract danger if we do.” With that Justice grabbed Fenris’s hand and pulled up the path they came from. 

As the spirit dragged Fenris back to camp, he noted the terror in Vael’s face during the spirit’s rant. It was understandable if the archer never knew about Justice before. But he swore that Vael had been told about Justice…and Fenris distinctly remembered Vael was rather understanding about Anders’s possession. Why was he so terrified now? Could he be remembering wrong? Did Hawke tell Vael after this excursion?

An unsettling thought crossed Fenris’s mind. What if it wasn’t just him and Varric who remembered? What if Vael did too? He tried to fight down the growing panic, but he couldn’t push away the thought once it entered his mind. Justice looked over his shoulder at Fenris and sensed the elf’s anxiety. He gave Fenris a reassuring squeeze of the hand and a small smile, he would have Anders ask what was bothering their lover later.

Fenris slightly relaxed at the comfort. He would not worry over nothing. At least, that’s what he told himself.

\---

Justice had taken Anders, Merrill, and a rather reluctant Hawke to talk to the ancient creature. It was a short discussion that only told them where they could find ruins further into the forest. The spirit and the mage had returned to explain this, only to leave soon after. The two old friends didn’t stay at camp for long; they wondered off from prying ears to have a face to face conversation. That had been a half an hour ago, and Fenris was bored. He busied himself by putting their bedding in their tent, cleaning up Anders’s mess, and contemplating cleaning his sword while the others set up their tents.

Fenris finally settled on sitting at the campfire and pulled out one of the letters from his sister, Varania. Through Anders and Justice’s encouragement, which was more like nagging on Anders’s part, Fenris started to write to his sister once more after her betrayal. Getting in contact with her again had been harder than the first time all those years ago, but he was glad that he did. He smiled at the letter, not truly reading. He had it memorized by now.  Varania had been taken in by a Dalish clan that traveled through the Free Marches. Her magic was less than impressive and the Keeper could only teach her how to control it, and nothing else. But Varania had turned out to be a natural at the bow. In her later letters, she had become one of the clan’s hunters. As far as Fenris knew, as her last letter was five months old, she had not gotten her Vallaslin yet. He wondered if it would be worth it to ask Merrill if City Elves are even allowed to undergo the ritual.

On one hand, Fenris was curious about his sister’s new life. On the other hand, it was Merrill.

“You’ve been staring at that paper for ten minutes, sweet thing.” Fenris snapped his head to his right to see Isabela sitting on a leg next to him. “Is it that a dirty, love note?”

“It’s a private letter from an old friend.” He lied. “I don’t wish to discuss it.” He folded the letter and slipped in his pocket.

“What a coincidence, neither do I. However, I would love to talk about a certain subject,” the pirate leaned forward, and whispered. “You. Anders. And Justice.”

He rolled his eyes. He had this conversation with Isabela seven years ago. Almost word for word. “I fail to see why that topic would be any concern of yours.”

“Not concern, but curious,” she smirked. “Tell me, are you ever on the end of Justice’s… _smitings_?”

Fenris decided to play along. “Who said that Justice did the _smiting_?” Not a completely dishonest retort. Just as long there was cuddling afterward, Justice didn’t care who did the _smiting_. Unlike Anders, who demanded to be bottom almost always. The pirate didn’t need to know that, however.

“Oooh, I bet he’s rather attentive? It would be an injustice to not satisfy one’s lover, would it not.”

“The spirit has access to Anders’s memories; take that how you will.” He said flippantly.

“So’s he’s a very kinky spirit,” Varric sauntered over and sat next to Fenris. He pulled a notebook and pen l, and started to write. “Blondie told me about some of his exploits during his escapes, and oh boy, some of those stories made me blush.”

“Those stories make me quiver,” Isabela purred. “Just think, sweet thing, your lovely little husband is off all alone. In a secluded area, with no one around. With only himself for company.”

Fenris’s face heated at her words. He knew what she was getting at, and his mind supplied the images. It would start out as a simple hug, and then lead to tiny kisses which to lead a heated battle of tongues and teeth. Then their mouths would trail down their necks, a specific spot on their left side, just below their jaws. They would take their time taking their clothes off. When they do, their hands would roam, teasing. They would know just where to touch. And they would shift. One on the ground, the other on top. They would use their equally, talented mouths at the same time—

Fenris shifted, his pants felt tight. He blinked the fantasy out of his head, but failed. He coughed. “Is there a point to this conversation?”

“Oh, I just wanted to see your ears blush,” she chuckled, but she wasn’t looking at him Fenris followed her gaze to where his younger self was cleaning his sword. His ears were a bright red, and he refused to look up. “And right now, I’m seeing double.”

“Vishante kaffas!” They both swore.

Fenris got up and went into his tent and hid. He heard the pirate and the dwarf laughing, but he didn’t care. He placed Varania’s letter safely in a leather journal before he hastily got undress. He pulled down his leggings and hurried himself into an unsatisfied orgasm. It was mildly embarrassing that he responded to a fantasy like a teenager, but it made Fenris feel better to think if their positions were in reverse, he was positive Anders would do the same. He was far from satisfied

 Fenris pulled out Varric’s novel. It been months since he had finished the book. Anders and he had been browsing a book stand in Highever when Anders spotted it. The mage had been excited to read it at first, but the further the story went on, he grew more depressed knowing how the story would end. Fenris was ahead of Anders, and knew Varric had change certain things with the ending. Hawke in the story had killed Anders in one of the last chapters, “The Last Straw”. Fenris decided that his husband wasn’t going to finish the book, and he was all too happy not to.

Despite how he felt about Varric’s work of fiction, Fenris had held on to the book. He started from the beginning. He didn’t know how long he had been reading, but he was close to the end of Act One when light started to die out. One of his favorite moments was an actual conversation between Anders, Isabela, and Varric. It was a nice buffer for the deep roads expedition that Hawke forced Fenris and Merrill on.

 _“I shit you not, Ravaini, it was this big” The handsome dwarf held up his hands to demonstrate_ how _big_

_“There's no way. Impossible!” The sultry pirate exclaimed. She was stunned. How could it be that big? “I've had hundreds of those in my hands, and they're never that size.”_

_It was Anders, the renegade apostate, who finally had enough. “I can't stand it anymore—what are you two talking about?” He needed to know what if they were talking about what he thought they were. Like the pirate, he too had hundreds of those in his hands and it was physically impossible to be that large. Unless, they were Qunari made._

_Varric was confused by his friend’s sudden outburst. “We're discussing knives, of course. Well, daggers, technically. I never remember the difference.” Scandalized, he asked. “Why? What did you think we were talking about?” What kind of sexual deviants did the sisters raised in the Circle the dwarf wondered?_

_“Right. You were talking about daggers. And I’m the King of Ferelden.” The apostate deadpanned._

_“You know I met the king before he was the king. He was nice blushing virgin. It was nice.” Isabela purred._

_“Well, I met the king when he was the king. Saved me from templars, and I showed him how grateful I was.” Anders said with a wink. Yes, Circle mages were truly sexual deviants, Varric thought. So were pirates, actually. He decided right then and there, he would keep these two from corrupting the innocent Dalish witch, Merrill. Little did the noble dwarf knew, it was the burly human Garrett Hawke he had to save Daisy’s virginity from…_

Fenris snorted. Despite the dwarf’s lies, there was some truth to his novel.

“Ah there you are.”

Fenris looked up from the book to see Anders crawling into their tent. He didn’t comment on the glare the mage gave the offensive book in his hands. He would not get rid of it. He focused on something else instead. “Did you two have a nice talk?” They shared a quick kiss before the mage started taking off his boots.

“Yes. It was amazing. We switched at one point—and don’t make it dirty like Isabela did.” He pulled off on boot, and moved on to the next one. He missed the blush that spread across Fenris’s cheeks and ears. “I cried on Justice’s shoulder at some point. He also cried on Justice’s shoulder. It was something I needed. And Justice needed. Though, it would have saved us a lot of trouble if either one of us could remember.” Anders stopped untying the one boot, his brows furrowed. “Maker, that made no sense. This time travel business makes no sense. Tevinter needs to stop. You know, just in general. Not just time magic.” Anders threw the boot aside, and went after his vest.

“Agreed,” Fenris decided not to ask what they talked about. It was a private moment between the two. If Anders or Justice wanted to share, they would. “Did the others harass you about our relationship?”

“Of course! Izzy spotted those love bites you leave all over my neck. I didn’t know my face turned so pink from embracement, but I guess it does considering Young Me turned a bright shade. Or he was horny. Could be either or with him. He has sick, depraved mind. You don’t know what you’re getting with those Circle mages.”

The elf thought back to the conversation he read in Varric’s book. “I think I might have an idea,” he drawled.

“Oh right, you married one.” Anders leaned in and gave him another quick kiss. “How’s that working out for you? Anyway, I assume you’ve been engrossed with your reading that you didn’t hear Junior swear in Tevene and storm off? He threatened to feed Hawke his spine because Hawke made a colorful joke about whips and chains…don’t give me that look. You know Hawke’s just joking. Anyway, I want to add that it’s not physically possible to feed someone their spine. I know it’s your favorite threat, love, you need to know that.” Anders tossed his vest into a corner. He didn’t bother undoing the buttons on his robe, he just pulled it off and revealed he wore nothing underneath. Not shocking, because Fenris had learned a lot time ago, Circle Mages went commando for multiple reasons. Some good, some not. Anders grabbed one of the fur blankets and wrapped himself into a cocoon, with only his head sticking out.

“You look ridiculous,” Fenris said blandly. Fenris tossed the book into his bag, and laid down.

“Your just upset you didn’t think about it first.” Anders accused. Fenris didn’t respond. Like a cat, the mage curled into Fenris’s side and used the elf’s chest as pillow. He wrapped his arms around his husband, and Anders did the same. A small smile blossomed over his face. The familiar weight on his chest was a comfort, and to know his amatus was safe and sound was all he needed.

Fenris teetered on the edge of much needed rest. Sleep eluded for the former slave, but with Anders at his side, it came easier.

That is, if Anders didn’t talk. “Are you alright?”

Startled awake, his eyes shot open. “I would be if my mage would let me sleep.” He grumbled, irritated.

“No, I mean earlier. Justice sensed that you were upset.”

“Today has been stressful.” It wasn’t an honest answer, but it should be enough for his mage and spirit’s curious concern. “I didn’t want this to be real. I am still weary of magic, especially magic that manipulate my memories like this one had.”

Anders hummed. “I see. I understand, love. It’s been pretty draining watching our old lives, what it was like to be part of a group.” He then added quietly, “it’s rather painful actually.”

Fenris didn’t like where this conversation was going; he steered the topic from dwelling on the past and decided he would gripe about their old friends’ nosy behavior. It was something they di back in Kirkwall, and it still made Anders smile. “Yes, I almost forgot how invasive our friends were.”

“Tell me about it,” Fenris mentally wept. He knew exactly what that meant coming from Anders. The mage would be the one telling _him_ about it. Today had been emotionally draining and all he wanted was to sleep. “I wasn’t just grilled on our relationship, you know. Sebastian asked so many damn questions about Justice. I don’t remember this curious when we finally told him about me being possessed. He didn’t even care really.” Anders shifted to look at Fenris. He never had a decent gambling face. He wore what he felt for all those to see, and he was terrified. “You don’t think he remembers? That he knows where we are at?”

Fenris bit his tongue to prevent himself from swearing. “No,” he lied. He wasn’t going to scare Anders any further than he already was by confessing he had the same fears. “I understand your fears, but he would have said something to me at the very least. The only person who remembers is Varric. Regardless what you think, Varric would not sell us out. Get some sleep, Amatus.”

After a moment of silence, he heard a quiet “I love you.” 

“I love you, too.”


	4. War-Torn Land

“You’re everything I hate.”

Fenris knew sleep would not come easy that night, but had hoped he could have some peace. He found a cluster of trees not for from the everyone else, but far enough to put distance and his future. He was leaning against one of the trees, moments from drifting off, when another mage denied him rest. He opened his eyes to see Anders standing over him, glaring down. He clung to his staff, an oppressive weapon adorned with dragon imagery. He fought the urge to bow his head and submit to such a powerful mage. And Anders was powerful indeed, and the mage had no idea how powerful. Fenris could sense Anders’s own magic and the demon’s raw power through his brands. The magic made he want to recoil away.

But this was not Tevinter. He was not a slave. And Anders was no magister. He would not cow down to the likes of Anders. He was an idiot. A fool. But they were equals.  

But Anders was his equal.  

Fenris met Anders in the eye, and he wasn’t kicked for disrespect. He wasn’t a slave. Anders wasn’t a Magister. “Do you mind, mage? I am trying to sleep.” He said through gritted teeth.

“I’m trying to understand,” The mage ignored him, “how we went from this,” he pointed rapidly between the two of them, “to that.” He gestured off in the distance to where their future selves slept. Fenris wondered if his future self was chained to end of their shared bed roll. An unfair thought, Fenris knew, but one that crept into his mind nonetheless.

“Maybe that Anders knows not to pull someone from the brink of sleep to start a ridiculous conversation.” Fenris deadpanned.

“I don’t get it.” Anders turned and began to pace back and forth. Fenris mentally screamed. All he wanted was to be alone, maybe sleep, but mages were selfish creatures that demanded everyone else’s time. He got to his feet. He was going to strangle the mage.

“You know what I do not understand, mage? You see someone trying to fall asleep and you go up to them and pick a verbal fight with said induvial.”

 “Oh, you were not asleep. Who sleeps with gauntlets on?” Anders retorted. “You were hiding away from everyone, brooding. I spent an hour looking for you. I was attacked by a pack of wolves and three trees! Trees, Fenris! Do you know what’s like being attacked by a tree? I’ll tell you. You can never take a piss in the woods again without fear!”

Fenris blinked. If he ever needed a reminder that Anders was no Magister, he would look back at this conversation. “What are you on about?”

“I’m talking about how you’re everything I can’t stand! You’re a former slave, and yet you would see people like me locked up for.” The mage waved his hands madly. The feathers of his coat puffed out, resembling a wild bird. “And somehow I end up with you! I don’t understand how this happened. How we’re going to end up together? It doesn’t make sense! What horrific event forced us to get in a relationship? Did someone die? Did you save me from a Templar? Did kill a Magister? Did we have a wild one-night stand and just kept happening until we got married? That’s what I’m trying to figure out!” Fenris tried following along, but the man’s speech was erratic and too fast. He opened his mouth, but the mage added. “I saw the ring, you know.”

“What?” Fenris asked. He had seen the mage act hyper before, this beyond normal. There was something wrong with Anders.

“The ring that Fenris gave to that Anders. The ring _you’ll_ give to _me_.” Anders said as if Fenris should have known.

Fenris didn’t want to spar with the mage, not while he can tell the mage was having a breakdown of some sort. He went where the conversation flowed. “They exchanged rings? Are they truly married then?” He couldn’t think about the couple as himself and Anders, but he was slightly curious how an elf and human apostate got married.

Anders nodded. “Well, actually, I gave you or will give you an amulet. You gave me a ring. I think it’s because you have those gauntlets. Where was I? Right. Apparently, we leave Kirkwall at one point, which is great if you ask me. That whole city should be razed to the blighted ground—

“Get to your point, mage.” Fenris cut him off, this was getting on his nerves, even if Anders couldn’t control his behavior.

“Right. Sorry. Justice told me our old Warden-Commander officiated the marriage.” Anders smirked. “The ring is enchanted, by the way. A massive resistance against blood magic. Your amulet helps protects you from most magic attacks.”

Fenris’s raised his eyebrows. “Practical, I suppose.”

“I guess.” Anders seemed to deflate. “Look, all I want know how they became a couple. I can’t wrap my mind around it. We can’t stand each other. And yet, it’s blighted obvious that one day, we’re going turn to love. And I’ve done the math. That’s not us in a year, or two. That’s us in a few months from now.”

Fenris scoffed. Love? What mage could understand about love? “What do you want me to say, mage? I don’t harbor secret feelings for you. I find the idea revolting.” The flash of hurt anger in Anders’s eyes made Fenris regret his words. He just decided he wasn’t going to argue with the mage, and went and say something like that.

“The very idea of being with a mage is revolting? Or is it just me that’s disgusting? This is what I’m talking about. You hate an entire group of people, my people, and somehow I can look past that.”

Fenris closed his eyes, he worried his bottom lip and balled his fists. He counted to five. He let out a breath, and stared Anders in the eyes. “You have no idea what is going through my mind. I go to the Gallows, and my first instinct is to bow my head at Tranquil because they were once mages. You say I hate mages, but I do not. Yes, I don’t trust you or your kind, but my distrust is not born out of hate, but fear. Is it right?” Fenris shrugged. “Neither Tevinter nor Kirkwall has proven me that I’m wrong. I find the idea being with a mage horrifying. All I can imagine is how I left one master to another. Just now I had to convivence myself that you’re not a Magister, but an equal. I already have that issue with humans in general, but you just happened to be a mage.” His voice was calm and even throughout his speech.

Anders looked stunned. No, more accurately, he looked as if Fenris had slapped him. Anders turned away, and stared at the ground. “You don’t think I don’t understand that?”

Fenris crossed his arms. “I don’t.”

Anders lifted his head. “I do understand! Okay, maybe I didn’t know about the human thing because you never mentioned it before, but I get the rest. I know you were a former slave, and that prick master of yours is still after you. I know this, okay? I just…I just…you’re not the only one. You see me as another Magister, and a relationship between us just you submitting to Danarius again. I get that. But you know what I see? I don’t see the former slave who has legitimate reasons to fear magic. I see Templars who’ve been indoctrinated to see me as less than a person but will fuck me anyway. You’re scared that you will one day fall into a slave mindset, and I’m scared that I will fall into my old Circle habits.”

Fenris wasn’t entirely shocked by the mage’s words. He stumbled against the tree and slumped down to the ground. He didn’t bother looking up, just stared into the woods. “We are not so different.” He stated after a moment.

Anders sat next to him, letting his staff hit the ground with a thud. “It’s like a blighted mirror, but a cursed one. Like that creepy, demon-filled one Merrill owns.”

 “At least we agree on blood magic.”

“And Hawke can’t sing for the life of him.”

Fenris playfully elbowed the mage, “you had to ruin the moment by bringing that up.”

Anders gave him a guilty smile, “sorry?”

He snorted. “Go to sleep, Anders.” Fenris closed his eyes and tried to fall asleep again. He didn’t know how long the silence lasted, but he wasn't surprised when he heard a hushed “I don’t really hate you.”

“I don’t hate you either.” He said back.

\---

It was dawn when Fenris awoken again, and he was happy that he got four maybe five hours of uninterrupted sleep. He rubbed his eyes and rolled over to see if the mage was still there. He was and a lot closer to Fenris than expected. The mage had curled himself up against Fenris, almost snuggling with him.

They needed to get back to camp. He reached over to shake the other man. “Ma—Anders, wake up.”

Nothing happened. He repeated himself, with more force. “Anders, get up.”

Anders groaned, but instead of waking up, he rolled over.

Fenris glared. Stupid, lazy mages. He scooted back and lightly kicked Anders. “Wake. Up.”

Anders shifted again and uncurled, his face twisted in agitation. Suddenly, blue cracks appeared only to disappear as fast. The mage mumbled, “fuck off, Biff,” but he did not wake up. Fenris paused for a moment. Who’s Biff? A Templar? Whoever they were, the thought of them awoken the demon. Fenris frowned and decided kicking Anders awake wasn’t the best idea. A thought came to him. He took off one of his gauntlets and slobbered over one finger. He hovered over Anders’s left ear.

“I know you are listening, de-spirit. It’s childish, but Anders woke me up last night to just to nag. Think what about to do as poetic _justice._ I am not attacking your host.” Fenris said in a harsh whisper. He didn’t understand if it was a warning or sign that was okay, but the mage was once again covered in blue light that quickly died. Fenris shrugged before he plunged his finger into Anders's ear. It got immediate results.

Anders sprang up, hair every direction, nose flaring, eyes widening. He covered his ear and swore. “Andraste’s knickers! What the fuck?”

Fenris covered his mouth at first to stop the silent laughter, but it bubbled out. He shook and clutched at his one side. The more he laughed, the hard it became to sit up. He doubled over, and squeezed his eyes tightly. His ears twitched, at what sounded like a pig snort. He glanced up long enough to see Anders covering his nose, shocked at the noise he made. Fenris started to laugh harder. He couldn’t breathe, his sides hurt.  Anders joined in. His laughter wasn’t silent like a slave’s or cold like a magister’s, it was loud and unashamed and _warm_.

He didn’t know how long they laughed, but eventually, they calmed down.

“Maker,” Anders said in-between breaths, “I haven’t laughed that hard in ages. I can’t believe you did that though, you sick bastard.” The mage flashed Fenris a genuine smile, one Fenris had only seen toward other people.

Fenris’s ears warmed, but not from laughing so hard. “I don’t remember ever laughing hard.” Maybe he did before the lyrium. He certainly didn’t have a reason since then.

“Well, that’s a blighted shame. Laughter is a good look on you.” Anders winked, and his bright smile turned into a smirk. He got up in one swift motion.

Fenris knew that his ear tips were pink. He covered an embarrassed chuckle with a cough. He stood after a moment and he regretted his sleeping position. His back and shoulders ached. He supposed he could ask the mage to heal him, but Fenris opted to go about the morningng routine of stretches. He went about his business, bending over to reach his toes, when felt eyes upon on him.

“Do you mind, mage?” He said, exasperated, still bent over.

“Not one bit.” Anders quipped back. If his weren’t pink, before they would be after that. Even Isabela wasn’t so brazen in her staring. It made him wonder how forward Anders will be when the inevitable would happen. Fenris was taken aback that thought didn’t stressed him like it would have last night.

“Keep your eyes to yourself.” He snatched his gauntlet to put it back on. “We’re not married yet.”

“You’re just upset you can’t see my ass just as easily as I can see yours.” Fenris rolled his eyes, he practically heard the smirk on the mage.

He grabbed his sword and hoisted on his back. “That is not true. The older Anders wore a vest that did nothing to hide his rear.”

“Oh-ho, checking him out, weren’t you? I’d be careful. His husband has a nasty jealous streak, so I’ve been told.” Anders walked around in front of Fenris. “Come on, we should head back to camp. Maybe some of the others are awake and made breakfast.”

“Fine, but I’ll lead. I do not want to be mauled by wolves or trees.” Fenris set off, and Anders didn’t complain. 

They couldn’t have been walking for five minutes before they stumbled upon camp. How the fool got lost and then attacked by wolves and trees, he didn’t know. He doubted he even wanted to know; not even the witch would have gotten that lost. When they go there, only Aveline, Sebastian, and his older self were up, for which he was grateful for. If it had been Hawke, or worse Isabela, up then he and the mage would get more than raised eyebrows. However, Fenris never knew he could look so damn smug, but the other elf proved that he could. Breakfast had not been made yet, but there was fire going and Fenris’s feet were cold.

Over the next hour, food was made, the others crawled out of their tents. He sat near the fire to warm his toes, and half-listened to Merrill prattle on about the different plants that resided inside the forest. Her voice became nothing more than white noise once the older Anders woke up. He ungracefully emerged from the married couple’s tent and attempted to put on one boot on while standing on foot. He hopped around, tripped over a log, and if it hadn’t been for Aveline catching him by his belt, Anders would have fallen face first in the fire. Even in old age, Anders was a fool. The display of stupidity angered the older Fenris, and they started to bicker.

“You would think that you two wouldn’t fight so much since you two got married.” Fenris turned to Merrill. She was frowning at him, as if he was the one arguing with the mage.

He rolled his eyes at her naivety, “they aren’t fighting. I know what’s like to get in a verbal sparring match with the mage, this isn’t it.” He gestured toward the couple before them, his eyes still on the witch.

“I’d say,” came Isabela’s sultry voice behind. “You don’t shut Anders up by shoving your tongue down his throat.”

Fenris’s eyes flickered and saw the couple were indeed kissing. It wasn’t passionate like the pirate suggested, but it wasn’t chaste either. He ducked his head and covered his face. How many times was he going to blush like love sick teenager?

Mix in with the witch’s giggles and Aveline’s groans, he heard the mage yell out, “well, it’s better than having my nose broken.”

\---

“I shit you not, Blondie. That’s what happened.”

“Maker, I’m only thirty-seven. I’m not that old that I can’t remember eight years ago.”

Not ten minutes had passed since they packed camp and were on their way to some long-forgotten ruins, Varric decided he would tell stories of their adventures. They were taking a rather winding path around tall hills covered by taller trees.

“Andraste’s sagging tits, I thought you were in your forties!” Hawke exclaimed. The two Anders narrowed their eyes at the burly man and started after him. Hawke, being the rogue he was, maneuvered through the group. But the mage, both young and old, were skilled marksmen and both sent two non-lethal lightning bolts. Right on the other man’s ass. Hawke’s eyes bulged out and made him jump several inches off the ground. Their antics caused the party to halt, but it made almost everyone laugh. Varric sat down-it was no secret Hawke’s aggressive and classless behavior got on the dwarf’s nerves. Isabela and Sebastian leaned against each other, both snickering wildly. Fenris chuckled until he felt eyes upon him. He turned to see Anders looking to see if the elf would lose control like he had this morning. Fenris blushed, coughed, and looked away. He focused on his feet instead annoying blonde mages.

Not everyone found what the two blondes had done to be funny. Aveline was exasperated, and Merrill fretted over Hawke.

“That’s enough you two. Act your age.” Aveline chastised. “Hawke, for Maker’s sake, do not piss off the two mages. They house a powerful spirit of Justice, who might take your mocking seriously.”

Hawke twitched. “Gah, I have the taste of metal in my mouth.” Though he didn’t seem to upset. If Fenris had to guess, his good humor was more on the fact Merrill was grouping his butt to make sure it wasn’t in pain.

“Aveline’s right. Justice doesn’t really understand mockery.” Said one of the Anders.

“However,” Fenris looked up to see which one was talking and it was the older one. “Justice doesn’t take _Hawke_ seriously, so I think Hawke’s safe. Honestly, he doesn’t want a part of this-and I quote-‘mortal foolishness’. Basically, he’s done until we stumble upon any injustices.”

Merrill, who was done molesting the all-too-willing Hawke, piped up, “I thought you couldn’t talk to Justice.”

“Er…it’s complicated. I can, but it’s not as easy when compared to him having his own body,” Anders waved at his younger self, “or when my past comes to haunt me.”

“Yawn,” Isabela interjected. “All this magic talk is boring; don’t we have to be somewhere?”

“I agree with Isabela.” Sebastian chimed in. “We should focus on lifting this curse or spell or water it is meant to be, and get back to our own time.” Fenris silently agreed.

“I think it’s fascinating,” Merrill said. She cocked her head to the side as if she was studying a complex puzzle. Fenris watched her eyes dart between the married couple, until it landed on his older self, who was clearly uncomfortable by the witch’s scrutiny. “Oh!” She clapped her hands, solving some sort of mystery. “Was it Fenris’s lyrium? I bet it is! Did you light them up while you two had sex?”

Fenris snapped his head at Merrill, his mouth agape at her audacity.

“Andraste’s knickers!” Both mages shouted.

“Our sex life is none of your business, witch!” His older self snarled.

Merrill held up her hands in defense. “It was just a suggestion.”

Varric and Hawke had left the conversation when magic was being discussed, came back with renewed interest. The dwarf dug into his coat pocket for a notebook and started writing.

Fenris caught movement out the side his eye. He turned and saw Isabela had sandwiched herself between the married couple. She leered at the both of them. Anders’s face was covered in a bright blush, while his older self simmered in enraged embarrassment. Fenris scoffed. They were shameless in their public displays of affection, but talk about their sex life made them turn red-faced and red-eared. Unless their reactions meant that were some truth in the witch’s words…Nope. He barely accepted his future marriage to the mage, he wasn’t ready to even think about sleeping with the demon.

Then again, yesterday when the pirate asked all those questions about smiting.

“Oh, Kitten, I think you’re on to something here. Look at these two lovelies blush.” She punctuated her sentence with a slap on Anders’s rear, and it earned whelp from the mage and a growl from the older elf. Isabela danced away from his older self’s grasp. “Oh, he’s the jealous type. Who would have thought.”

"Is Sebastian and me the only adults here?” Aveline asked. “Can we focus?”

“Probably,” Hawke answered, while Sebastian whined. “Yes, please, can we change the subject?”

“Right. Chantry Brother here has a good idea. Let’s change the subject.” Anders said, and Fenris’s flicked over to see the mage, who was blushing just as bad his older counterpart. The mage caught Fenris’s eyes, and his face turned redder. Anders could brazenly stare at his ass, but this embarrassed him? Anders coughed, and continued, “I don’t want to kill the mood here—

“Then don’t,” Varric yelled out.

“But this ruin. How do we know what we need is in there? What then?”

Fenris didn’t even consider the possibility. He’d been so fixated on his future relationship, that being stuck in the future for longer than a few days hadn’t crossed his mind. “Did I not just say don’t, Blondie.”

“We don’t know. I guess. What do you remember, love?”

All eyes shifted back to the couple. The older Fenris stared at his feet, thinking. “I do not remember much, as I said before. I am not sure what we’ll do if the answers we seek aren’t there.” He looked around at everyone. It was not the answer anyone wanted to here. He took a deep breath before continuing. “I do know when we return it was as if time hadn’t passed. We never even went camping either.”

“So, it’s a win-win then? We get back to our lives as normal, and we don’t visit the bandit coast?” Isabela asked.

“Awww,” Hawke whined. “Merrill and I were looking forward to this trip.” Several mutters of ‘you’re the only one’, but the man ignored them. “It seems we have no choice in the matter anyhow. These ruins are our best bet. I say we head out before Aveline punches one of us.” He grabbed Merrill’s hand dragged her around the hill. Sebastian and Aveline followed soon after, with Isabela pulling the older mage, with his husband at their heels. That left himself, Varric, and the mage to take the rear.

“I was thinking,” Varric started.

“A dangerous pastime for you, I’m sure.” Fenris snarked. He earned one of Anders’s undignified snorts. He had to cover his laughter with a cough. 

“Oh-ho, make your jokes, Broody, but I was thinking how much that bet will be.”

He scoffed. “I am not going to pay you, dwarf.”

“He’s going to cheat you.” Anders said, directed at Fenris.

“And with that, Blondie, I’m not going to share. Why I was going—”High pitched scream cut Varric off. “Oh shit, Daisy!”

Fenris didn’t falter, he pulled his sword and took off. He rounded the hill, only to stop when he saw there was no fight or danger. Not too far from where he stood, everyone was huddled together, staring up. He followed their gaze and swore. Up above, was a fallen tree that bridged two different hills. And from that tree, hung seven elves.

 Three men, two women, and two children. One couldn’t have been no older than six. Out of morbid curiosity, he walked closer. As he neared, he saw that they were Dalish based off the facial tattoos the adults wore. They were all were stripped bare, and were beaten and probably worse. But what had his stomach twisted in knots was something he seen rarely done even in Tevinter. Where their ears should be, were bloody holes out the side of their heads.

He noticed on one of the women, a petite female with dark hair, a sign. He knew there was something on that sign, and for once, he was grateful he couldn’t read. He went to her face, and couldn’t help but picture Merrill in her place. They even looked the same. He swore again, several times.

“Who would do such a thing?” Fenris turned to see Anders standing next him. He sounded as destressed and disgusted as Fenris felt, but there was an undercurrent of righteous fury from the demon the mage harbored.

“There’s a sign around her neck. What does it say?” Isabela asked. Hawke handed the distraught Merrill over to her and walked closer.

“Be careful, Hawke, this could be bait for travelers,” Aveline warned. He didn’t glance back, but he waved to indicate he heard.

When Hawke neared, he stopped dead short. “Oh shit.” And then quickly he yelled out. “It says nothing.”

Everyone exchanged looks. “What do you mean it says nothing?” Varric yelled out.

Hawke stalked back, getting into Varric’s space. The dwarf’s hand twitched over Bianca’s trigger. “Like I said it says nothing.” They glared for a moment.

“Hawke, any one of us could go over there and read the sign for ourselves.” Sebastian stepped in, defusing the situation.

They all stared at Hawke expectedly, but no one moves. The rogue ran his hand through his messy locks and swore. He glanced at Anders, and then his older self. The difference between the two men and their control over the demons were outstanding. The Anders next to Fenris was gripping his head with one hand, his eyes were screwed shut and he was muttering under his breath. The older one was barely affected.

“Fine, fuck. Okay. But uh, Justice and well other Justice, you two need to stay calm.”

The older Anders spoke up for the both of them. “Justice is already livid, and I don’t see what was written on that sign could make it worse.”

Hawke threw his arms up, “Fine! Whoever did this wrote ‘apostates can’t do blood magic without any knives.’ Does it make you feel better knowing?”

It didn’t. The older Anders looked mortified and guilt-ridden. He stumbled back, and muttered, “I did this.” His husband immediately went to his side, despite the blue cracks slithering over his body. But while this Justice didn’t take control over his host, the other demon did.

“This injustice will not stand!” The demon boomed. He marched forward, not caring how the others scrambled out of his path. “These innocents were targeted for being elves _and_ mages, and the perpetrators must be brought to Justice!” He slammed the mage’s staff into the ground, sparks erupted from the ground. “We must hunt them down before these bigoted fiends murder again!”

Either Hawke was brave or stupid or maybe both, but he was the only one out of the group who didn’t back away from the outraged demon. He marched up to the demon’s face and spoke in an assertive, but soothing voice. “We don’t know who did this, or if they are still here. The best we can do is give them a proper burial.” Hawke talked Justice down, just like he did when the demon nearly killed that mage girl.

But the demon would have none of it. “No! They must be **avenged!** ”

“Justice.” Fenris was surprised that he spoke to the demon, before he realizes it wasn’t him. Fenris looked back at his future self, and his eyes went to Anders. He was curled into a tight ball, his head buried in his knees. He rocked back and forth, as he wept.  

He was not the only one who noticed Anders reaction. The demon calmed down when he saw his host suffering. He moved swiftly to be at Anders side. “What is wrong? We are not trapped in any caves, why is he like this? What can I do?” Fenris was amazed, he never heard Justice or any demon like this before. As if the demon was genuinely afraid for his host’s wellbeing. And it was not a trick of the voice either, even his face contorted with worry.

The older Fenris gently put his hands on the demon’s shoulders. “I know you wish to help, but you need to let me take care of Anders. And Hawke is right. These people deserved to be buried with proper care, not humiliated. It would not be _just_ to leave them like this, while we hunt down their killers.” He let go of the demon and bent down in front of Anders and began rubbing his back. Justice nodded, and he hovered awkwardly over them, unsure what to do with a battle that couldn’t be fought with fire and brimstone.

“What’s going on? What happened to him?” Hawke asked. He stalked over, but was stopped short by Aveline.

“Not now, Hawke. We need to figure out how to remove the bodies.”

“Yeah, we’re going to do that, but I want to know what’s wrong with Anders.”

 “Justice,” The older elf said through gritted teeth, “if you wish to help, remove Hawke from my presence.” The demon did as he told, and steered the rogue away from the couple, ignoring the human’s protest. The others tentatively followed the two to the dead bodies.

“Come on, Broody, let’s go help.” Varric suggested. Fenris looked down at the dwarf, but Varric’s gaze on the mage. Varric turned and shook his head, and walked off. After a moment of watching the couple, Fenris trailed after him.

There wasn’t much for him to do, however. It was mostly Merrill who did the work; she summoned tree branches to ease the bodies down and magically altered the earth and buried the Dalish mages. Varric’s bolts could cut through the ropes far easier than Sebastian’s arrows. Isabela stood by Merrill for support, constantly rubbing her back. It was clear, outside of the older mage, Merrill took the murders the hardest.

Hawke, and Aveline scouted ahead for any potential enemies. That left Fenris and Sebastian by themselves a melancholy demon. A few minutes of watching Merrill and Varric lay the elves properly, Justice receded back inside Anders mind.

“I’m sorry about Justice.” He apologized for the demon, but for once, Fenris felt there was no need. He could understand the demon’s need to avenge those

“If he is truly a spirit of Justice as you claim,” Sebastian said, “then seeing such cruelty explains his anger.”

Anders was taken aback by the archer’s understanding. “Really? I didn’t expect that from you of all people.”

“I was raised by The Chantry teachings, just as you were. I know that Spirits are the Maker’s first children.” He paused for a moment, “however, Justice is quite frightening when angered.”

“Er, well, he’s sorry, at least. He doesn’t want to frighten anyone.” Anders sighed. “I can’t talk to Justice like _he_ can talk to Justice,” he nodded his head at the direction at his older self. The three them looked at the married couple. The mage had calmed down considerably, but he was still upset. He was on his feet at the very least. The future Fenris ran his hands up and down Anders’s arms. It made Fenris wonder when he will get so patient and good at comforting. His mind went to last night when Anders went into a state of mania and how handled the situation then. Fenris supposed he will get some practice in. “But,” Anders continued, “I know he feels awful when he scares everyone.” He glanced over at Fenris. “Maker, if Merrill’s right and _that’s_ how I can talk to Justice, I will shit a nug.” Fenris blinked for a second, taken aback by the sudden change of mood.

“Just as long you do not do it in bed.” Fenris deadpanned. He figured it was best to go along with the mage instead of focusing on the demon.

Anders made a face. “You don’t have to worry, I’m not into that.”

“People are into…” Sebastian look rather green at the thought.

“Urg! You have no idea!” Anders groaned. He moved so he could look at both men, his hands held to emphases his point. “I worked in a brothel for months during my last escape before the Wardens. Let me tell you about one of the specials the Pearl had. Madam Sanga would set up a private room, and the worker would have to fill with it all sorts of crazy nonsense.” He started marking them off one by one, “Flowerpots. Dragon eggs. Scarecrows. A fish statue. The only thing normal about it was the whip. I had to give the patron some sort of potion to knock them out, and I couldn’t be in the room when they woke up. If you don’t believe me, ask Isabela. It’s how we met.”

Fenris cocked his head to the side in curiosity. “You worked in a brothel?”

“Sweet Maker and all that is holy, that’s the question you ask?” Sebastian asked, horrified.

“Yep for four months. Madam Sanga said I was one of the best workers she had.” Anders smirked, “Aren’t you lucky one.” Fenris turned away, his face heating up.

“You, ah, certainly have gotten used to the idea of being together.” Sebastian then added, “the both of you.”

Anders shrugged. “We talked last night. I figured since neither one of us are going to remember this little trip to the future, well for the most part in his case, I might as well accept it as is. It’s better than dwelling on it, at the very least.”

Fenris huffed, “I wish you would have come to that conclusion last night before you woke me up, mage.”

Anders narrowed his eyes but he never got a chance to respond. Fenris heard light footsteps approaching him; he turned and saw Hawke slipping out of the shadows with Aveline not far behind.

“What did you two find?” Sebastian asked. Judging by their expressions nothing good.

“You want the good news or the bad news?” Hawke sauntered over, stopping short at Anders. “Oh, you’re back.”

“I never left, Hawke.” Anders glared, before answering, “if we have to, let’s get the bad news first, so the good news is extra special.”

Hawke opened his mouth, but Aveline cut him off. “Do you have control over your spirit?”

Anders blinked. “He’s not angry right now. Too distraught over future me. Why? Is it demons? Templars?” He nodded his head toward the makeshift burial site, and began to pace back and forth. “A group of Dalish elves were killed for having magic, so I’m guessing Templars.” A flash a blue appeared in his eyes, but Justice didn’t take over. “It’s not the first time I’ve heard a Templar accuse an elven mage of blood magic for being ‘born with knives’. My commander heard that a lot. Though he was an actual blood mage, but he was accused of it before he started using blood magic.” Fenris glanced over to Merrill who was finishing her prayers. He wouldn’t wish this treatment on her.

“That’s just lovely.” Hawke said sarcastically. Aveline elbowed him lightly to continue. “But, yes. It is Templars. More than I ever seen outside of the Gallows; a couple dozen at least. The good news we think we found those ruins. Bad news, Templars are up front. And there’s something off about them.”

“Off about them how?” Fenris asked.

“Some of them have red rocks protruding out of their armor.” Aveline answered.

“Red rocks? How bizarre, that can’t be normal.” Anders muttered.

“On the bright side,” Hawke got close and swung his arm over Anders, “my good friend and myself here are going to have fun.”

“I really don’t enjoy killing people, Hawke, even Templars.” Anders pulled himself from the shorter man’s hold. Hawke didn’t seem to mind as Merrill was done with her task. He wrapped his arms around the tiny woman, and she hugged him back.

“Who are we killing?” Isabela asked taking a spot next between Fenris and Aveline. In a rare moment, the pirate wore a serious expression, not even bothering to hide it under a mask. “Because if it’s the sick bastard who abused those two babies, I’m down for torture too.”

“We’re killing Templars.” Hawke said casually.

“What are Templars doing out in the middle of a forest?” Varric stood next to Anders. He still had Bianca out, and ready to fire at anyone who was stupid enough to mess with their party.

“It looks like they’re doing what they do in the tower, only out in public.” The mage answered.

“Surely the Templars aren’t allowed to do that.” Merrill said, her voice raw.

Anders rolled his eyes. “Maker, have I’ve been talking to brick walls? They are allowed to do whatever they want to us. No, I haven’t seen a racist Templar cut off an elf’s ears off, but beatings and rapes common. I know from experience,” He paused at the alarmed expressions he received. The mage thought over what he said for a moment and Fenris saw the realization what his words sounded like spread across his face. “I worked in the Circle’s infirmary!” He added quickly, but Fenris remembered what the mage said last night about Templars just wanting to fuck him. It made the elf sick. “I saw Templars abuse their power almost daily. That’s what I meant. I was one of the fortunate ones. I, ah, I mean. Look…can someone else talk, please?” 

“Right,” Varric moved the conversation along, though he shot a concerned look at Anders as if he planned on talking to him about his slip up. “That still doesn’t tell us why Templars are here, doing _that_. You can’t tell me The Chantry okay’s this shit?”

“The Chantry has no say in the matter anymore.” Anders's eyes widen when he heard his voice, but he didn’t speak. They turned to face the older Anders and Fenris. His older self had a dark expression, while the mage looked like he teetered on crying again. “We haven’t been honest with you.”

“You two aren’t really married!” Hawke shouted. “I fucking knew it.”

Anders blinked at the outburst, and then his face contorted into annoyance. “What? No. Why would we…no. We didn’t mention the current state the world is in. And it’s bad.”

“Can you please get to the point,” Aveline cut in.

Never one to fence with words, the older elf interjected. “Four years ago, Kirkwall eru-” he covered his mouth and coughed. The older Anders’s eyes widen at his lover’s almost choice of words. “Chaos broke out between the Templars and mages. Meredith called for the right of Annulment months prior to the fighting. When the time came, the mages did not stand down. And we sided with them and fought and killed the Templars, Meredith included.”

“What about Bethany?” Hawke demanded.

“She’s alive and well, Hawke. She’s not even in the Circle anymore. The Annulment never got a chance to happen.” Anders added.

“And pray tell, why did Meredith-or in our case why will she call for the Annulment?” Varric questioned.

“She grew paranoid,” Anders answered, but added when his younger self scoffed. “More paranoid. She saw blood mages everywhere, but there weren’t any blood mages in the Circle! Most blood mages who ran around were slavers or desperate men and women. For Maker’s sake, that nug-humping whore Danarius walked around the damn city for days and the templars did nothing about it. Oh, and then there was this one time—

“What did you just call my ma-former master?” Fenris stared at the older blonde in disbelief.

“A nug-humping whore.” Anders repeated, then he looked sheepish. “hindsight, I probably shouldn’t have called him that to his face. That wasn’t uh good idea. Exact opposite actually” Fenris slapped his forehead. Of course, the fool would say that to Danarius’s face. And he was going to marry this idiot.

“We are getting off track.” His older self said, his expression turned darker at the mere mention of the memory. “The point is about Meredith, she had no reason to annul the Circle. And what happened in Kirkwall spread out to the rest of southern Thedas. Those Templars you saw,” he snarled the word as if he meant to say slavers, “have no connection to the Chantry. They pulled away when the mages did. The two fractions have been waring with each other for the last few years now.”

“And since you stopped Meredith, you are fugitives of the Chantry,” Aveline concluded.

Anders nodded, “we aren’t the only ones. Your position as guard-captain is going to help protect you. And you, Sebastian,” he didn’t look at the archer, “you’re safe in Starkhaven. But the rest of us, we’re on the run. Hiding from the Chantry.”

They stood there digesting the information. Since yesterday, they had been hit with an onslaught of unbelievable information after another. Fenris wasn’t sure what to do with this. The worse of thing for him was that they know years in advance and they will forget it soon. They can’t stop this war, or Meredith, or even these senseless murders. Then there was how the older Anders reacted to finding out the Dalish elves were mages. He knew the mage on principle despised the death of innocents, but he took it personally. There was more to the story, Fenris was sure of it, then what they were told.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I originally wanted this chapter to be in Anders's pov, but I figured that show how the younger Fenris views his future relationship. Next chapter, we will get inside Anders's mind...as well as Justice. Yay, fun times. 
> 
> Oh, and here's some more fenders fanart http://the-goat-bazaar-of-art.tumblr.com/post/162809681509/capricornicis-before-i-finish-a-batch-of


	5. His Burning Pyre

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting this now, because it will be close to two weeks until I will post again. Also, I completely forgot Carrol was in DA:I. I guess an oc templar can take his place in this world's canon.

They decided, or Hawke decided for them, that they would all sneak up on the Templar camp. Anders feared he would be the one to botch job up. He sucked a stealth, and he knew Old Anders did too. And they both had to keep Justice under control. So that meant statistically, that’s a more likely chance of an Anders fucking up. And he didn’t want to be blamed. The camp was located at the base of the ruins, a rather impressive piece architecture in Anders’s opinion, and there was plenty of tall mounds of earth or pillars to hide behind.

They were split into two groups. Team Dragons was led by Hawke and consisted of Isabela, Varric, Fenris, and himself. Team Not-the-Dragons housed Old Anders, Old Fenris, Sebastian, and Merrill while Aveline took charged. Team Dragons would stick to the pathway, while the others would trudge the woods. The plan was that Aveline would lead her team to a specific spot in the woods and Sebastian would shoot a flare. Then Hawke would send one of his fire grenade into a large cluster of Templars, and single the second team to join in on the fight.

Anders swore he heard Varric mumble about not letting children name the teams, but the rest of the trip was quiet. Except for the skeletons that sprung up from the ground. And, not one, but two revenants. Both of whom were far harder to kill than one he and the others had faced in Kirkwall. Blessedly no Templar came running to attack.

And they found out why when reached the Templars. Scattered in front of the ruins, where men and women alike. The camp stretched far into the trees, but it never reached inside the ruins. The Templars weren’t acting like any Anders had been familiar with. They drank to excess and played music. They were loud, and some were rutting like wild animals. They have devolved into degenerates without Chantry oversight.

It made him sick to see such depraved acts of Hunger. 

Anders shook his head of Justice’s thoughts. The armor they wore was familiar but weren’t at the same time. Just as Aveline said, there were red rocks attached to the heavy plated armor. Anders felt something was off, but he couldn’t place what was wrong. Justice knew, however. The rocks held the song of the Fade. A twisted and ugly version, far from the pure lyrium he came to adore. He wished he could warn Anders of the corrupted lyrium, but he couldn’t and it made him agitated.    

“Shit, what’s taking them so long?” Hawke asked. He eyed the sky for the single. They were crouched down behind a mound of hard dirt and trees. Large pillars towered over the head to cast long shadows to hide in. Hawke was nearest to the entrance, then Isabela, followed by himself and Fenris, leaving Varric at the highest point. He laid down on his stomach, with Bianca ready to fire away. There were Templars nearby, but they seemed too engrossed in their conversation to notice they were being spied on. Anders found their voices oddly familiar.

“Maybe they were attacked by trees,” Fenris deadpanned. The woman laughing. It was shrill, terrible laugh. A chill crawled down Anders his spine, and he was reminded of a dark cell. 

“Well, fuck, I’d wish we’re attacked by damn trees,” Varric complained. “And don’t start whining about it either, Blondie. What the fuck happened to you in the Wardens that made you so terrified of trees?”

“What?” Anders was pulled out of his concentration. 

“Boys, you know how much I love your voices, but maybe we should ease up on the banter, hmmm?” Isabela whispered. Anders looked at her, she raised an eyebrow at him. Was he too loud? He shrugged an apology and went back to listening. The Templars were too far away for him to hear what was being said, but he could pick out three voices. Two men, and one woman. He lowered his head and rubbed his temple and tried to remember. 

“Mage, do you have your de-spirit under control?” Fenris asked in a hushed voice.

“Yes. I’m fine.” His words are covered by an obnoxious laugh.

Anders sat up straight. He covered his mouth before he let out a loud gasp of shock. He knew that laugh. It had been almost six maybe seven years now, but he knew that laugh. It was one he heard for over a decade while he was in the Circle. Ser ‘I’m the Queen of Antiva’ Carrol. And with Carrol’s name, Anders could place the names to the other voices too.

Ser Thomas.

Ser Eileen.

He let out a tiny whimper, as he was flooded with memories of his time in solitary. “Maker, not her.”

“Anders?” Isabela sounded concern; she put a hand on his shoulder and gripped his hand with the other.

“I know those Templars,” He whispered, “they’re from my Circle. The one that just laughed, his name is Carrol. He’s an ass, but he protected mages from the bad Templars". _For a price, and I paid weekly,_ Anders didn’t think it needed to be said. “The woman is Eileen. She used to guard my cell when I was in solitary.” _She used to visit me_ , was what Anders doesn’t say. “And the other one is Ser Thomas. He…he has a fondness for young boys. Twelve was usually his cutoff age.” _I was one of the fortunate ones_ , Anders thought. It was a mantra he clanged to. He was fortunate. It could have been worse. It should have been worse; he had been lucky.

When Anders justified what happened to him in the Circle, it infuriated Justice. How could Anders accept what happened to him? How could he say his abuse should have been _worse_? The spirit prodded and poked at each memory to find new wrongs the three Templars had committed to show Anders what they did was wrong. The more he looked, the more Justice wondered how could these abuses go unpunished? These crimes were which he could not overlook.

They will pay! They deserve to feel his judgment! His wrath. His _Rage_. His _Vengeance. He will have **Vengeance!** _

Anders began to shook. _Not now, not now!_ He curled into himself and gripped his head. He rocked back and forth, chanting with Justice. They couldn’t do this, not here, not after Ella.

Fenris and Isabela understood his distress after this. They both knew that Anders was twelve when he was taken to the Circle. Anders didn't need to tell them what that monster did to him, not after his earlier slip-up. “Venhedis!" Fenris snarled, barely containing his fury. "I’m going to rip his fucking heart out!” 

Isabela coated her dagger with poison, “not until I cut his balls off.” The pirate’s voice was cold, emotionless. 

Anders ignored them both. _I had been fortunate. There mages who have it worse. Please, calm down._ Anders pleaded with the furious spirit.

Justice snarled as if he was caged animal. Why has Anders given into Sloth? Justice loved his mortal, but Anders had always suffered from Sloth! His abusers were just beyond this mound of earth. It was time to strike! He would protect Anders from the Templars; they would not lay a finger on his mortal. Anders knew this, and yet he will not act!

_Please, calm down. Please, stop. Not now. Don’t get mad. Please. Not now. I was fortunate. There were ones had it worse. Please, stop! Not now! Don’t do this to me! Please, Justice I’m begging you!_

Justice did not understand Anders’s pleas. He saw them as another example of abuse perpetrated by Templars. The Chantry’s hold on Anders’s mind was so severe that couldn’t fight his abusers. It confused and enraged Justice even further. The Chantry had beaten complacency into Anders.

_Not now. Notnow.Notnow.Please!Please!PLEASE!PLEASESTOPPLEASESTOPPLEASESTOP!_

Justice shot back a memory, one that Anders had buried a long time ago. The spirit’s hope the memory would spur Anders into action.

 

 

Anders had been twenty-one and was working in the infirmary with Wynne. He was busy doing inventory when someone had come in. He looked from his shelf and saw a familiar sight he knew all too well. Alim Surana, a scrawny thirteen-year-old elf, was battered and bloodied. He had a bruised lip, his nose had been broken, one of his golden eyes were swollen shut, his hair was a shuffled mess and he walked with a noticeable limp. Anders quickly got to work and eased the pain in Surana’s backside, while he escorted the young elf to one of the cots.

“What happened?” Anders knew the answer, but he was required to write down the reason for every visit.

Surana had stared blankly at the doorway for several moments. Anders hadn’t thought he would answer, until he spoke up, “Ser Thomas.” His voice had been hollow, empty. Tranquil.

Anders had nodded. “Yeah, he’s one of the bad ones.” He had known of Ser Thomas. He crawled into apprentices’ beds late at night. Told them he’d see them Tranquil if they said no.

“They’re all bad.” 

But Anders disagreed. “No, some of them are good, and you need to know which ones are the good ones. They can protect you from Templars like Ser Thomas.” Karl had taught Anders this simple rule after his third escape, and Wynne had reinforced it when Anders passed his Harrowing. He would teach it on to Surana.

That memory shifted into an another. It was years later, a week after Anders had been conscripted into the Wardens and saved from the hangman’s noose. It was of him, Surana, Nathaniel, and Oghren, and stood over Rylock’s mangled body.

“The only good Templar is a dead Templar.” Surana scowled as he kicked the woman’s corpse.

 

 

With those words echoing through his head, Justice sprung forth. He bolted to his feet and rounded the corner of their hiding spot. He ignored the other mortals’ yells. Their Sloth will not weigh him down. These Templars had escaped his wrath for far too long. He will see them all dead to keep his mortal safe. He did not give the Templars any time to respond. He spun his staff and slammed into the ground and utilized Anders’s grease spell. He summoned a hail of fire to rain down upon the Templars and created an inferno. He paid no mind to the screams of the corrupted mortals. Their pain and suffering had been earned, and Justice would give it freely. He turned his head to Anders’s abusers. They had their weapons out, but they were no match for him.

Justice went after the woman first. She had forced herself on Anders several times during his year in solitary. She needed to face judgment for touching his mortal. She charged at him, unaware of that his fury fueled his strength. When she swung her great sword down upon him, Justice had dodged. He avoided the corrupted lyrium when he grabbed her arm. He pulled, and it came off easily, blood sprayed all over his face. She screamed and fell to the ground.

Justice’s voice was calm, despite the Rage consuming him. “Beg your Maker to give you Compassion, for I will not.” He slammed the sharp end of his staff through her chest, stopping her mid scream.

He was vaguely aware that the others had joined him on the battle field, that is until Justice heard the beautiful song of the Fade reached his ears. It was melodic and sweet, nothing like the wicked and vile corruption that adorned the Templars. He looked and saw the Singing Elf removing Ser Thomas’s heart. Justice felt a burst of envy. Ser Thomas had harmed his Commander; the kill should have been his. But that envy disappeared when a Templar ran at the elf, sword raised. Justice sent a blast of magic at the Templar. He then charged toward mortal, hitting him at full force with Anders’s staff. He shared a brief look at the elf, one Justice could not comprehend, before returning to battle. They stood back to back, taking enemies out effectively. It felt natural to fight at the Singing Elf’s side. He was beautifully composed for battle; each of his movements struck a powerful chord.

The battle was a blur of fallen men and women; Justice made sure that it was none of Anders’s companions. He would not repeat Victory was theirs, and justice had been served. He turned to the Singing Elf, who was breathing hard slightly. He eyed his ally for wounds and saw only shallow cuts and bruises. Justice would not force magic on Fenris. He reached for one of Anders’s

“You fought well, Fenris.” He complimented the elf and offered him one of Anders’s elfroot potions. Justice marveled how talented his mortal was, that could brew such fine potions.

The Singing Elf gave him a weary look. “I suppose I should thank you.” If Fenris sounded awkward or fearful, Justice did not notice. Gingerly, the elf took the potion.

Justice shook his head, “There is no need. I speak the truth. You are a skilled warrior, the way you move on the battlefield is breath-taking. I am not one to advocate in Pride, but you should be pleased with yourself.” Something happened to the elf’s ears, and quickly looking through Anders’s memories, told Justice the elf was embarrassed. The elf opened his mouth, but his words were cut off by Hawke.

“What the fuck was that, Justice. We had a plan.” He strode up to them, Justice could tell the mortal was angry, but he was unsure of what. Justice had been done here, and he was under the impression Hawke was a just man, if not a foolish one.

“That woman had repeatedly forced herself on Anders,” he gestured to the bloodied corpse on the ground. “And that man had abused my Commander when he was just a child. These crimes could not go unpunished any longer.”

Hawke didn’t like that answer, but Justice disregarded the mortal and tuned his voice out. He focused on Anders instead. He felt his host was prodding at his mind. He wanted control back, and Justice gave it to him.

Anders came forward and shook his head. He panicked at the carnage around him. He could never remember what they did when Justice got this angry. He interrupted Hawke, “are you hurt?” He felt confusion and disapproval from Justice, but he pushed the spirit’s feelings aside for now.

“What? No, I’m not hurt, I’m pissed the fuck off though! Bring Justice back, I’m not fucking finished yelling at him.”

Anders concentrated on the recent memories Justice was sending him instead. It seemed that the only people Justice harmed were Templars. Anders was okay with that.

“Are you even listening to me? Justice fucked up! He almost burnt down the whole forest!”

Anders was about to retort when Fenris of all people came to the spirit’s defense. “Hawke, did you not hear a damn word the de-spirit said? These two are no better than my former master, and I don’t blame the spirit for acting the way he did.” Both humans were taken aback. They knew Fenris rarely made such comparison, and when he did, it was not done lightly. Of course, Anders had no idea who Fenris was talking about. Or what Justice had said to make Fenris side with him. The spirit seemed to burst with joy at the elf’s defense.

Hawke recovered from his shock first. “Fine, then I’ll chew your ass out, Anders! Because you fucking promised me this shit wouldn’t happen again! You’re supposed to keep him under—

“Hawke, watch out!” Merrill’s voice cut through the air. Hawke spun, daggers flashing, and Anders ready a spell. A Templar, covered in red lyrium rocks, had gotten up and charged at Hawke. Merrill, Sebastian, and Varric hit the man with their own attacks, but it was the rain of bolts that fell on him made him drop.

Anders sought the source of the bolts and was shocked to see Varric standing at the entrance way. He swore Varric had attacked from his advantage point.

“Oh, so finally decided to join us on the ground,” Hawke grinned. Apparently, the rogue didn’t see the bolt that flew overhead. Anders looked over his shoulder and saw that Varric was still there on his high perched. However, the dwarf hadn't met his eye. Instead, he stared passed Anders and Hawke. He was slacked-jawed, and his eyes were wide. If Varric was there, Anders turned to the one the ground…

“I ain’t here to join no one, Hawke.” Old Varric answered a smirk played on his lips. He turned to face Old Anders and Old Fenris. The other team was standing rather far away, but Anders could see the older elf scowling at the dwarf. “I came here to collect.” He hoisted Bianca on his shoulders and held out his palm expectedly. A bit louder he shouted, “I’ve waited seven years for ten gold pieces, Broody, cough ‘em up.”


	6. A Wicked Thing That Comes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was able to finish this chapter a lot sooner than I thought. At first, I didn't like this chapter, but after rewriting the ending I feel a lot better about it. I want to thank everyone who's taken an interest in this story. Every bookmark, kudos, and comment means a lot to me.

“You betted ten sovereigns?!” Anders screeched.

Fenris cringed and then glared up at him. Okay, maybe he shouldn’t have shouted in his elven lover’s ear, but ten sovereigns? Over something so blighted trivial?

“I was drunk,” Fenris said as if that was an excuse. He dug for his coin pouch and started counting.

He was drunk he says. Can you believe this Justice? Anders asked. And now he’s paying Varric. Unbelievable.

_This is why I do not approve of you drinking. You could be taken advantage of and I would not be able to protect you._

Anders sighed and began to rub his temples. Blighted drunk elves and greedy dwarves. They had so little money to begin with. He felt the impression of his shoulders and neck being massaged; it was Justice’s way to help him relax. He sighed again, this time more content.

Behind him, he heard the familiar sound of heavy armor clanking. He flinched and spun around only to see Aveline hunched over burnt Templar bodies, pick pocketing for coin. It was an activity she approved of, but she did it without complaint. Aveline looked up and raised her eyebrow at him. “Are you going to help Merrill put out the fire?” She asked. Anders nodded. In the Wardens, he had become accustomed to the smell of burning flesh, but that didn’t mean he enjoyed the repugnant smell. _I am grateful I do not have a sense of a smell when I am not in control._ Is that why you hide when Fenris cooks? _…No comment_.

A few bushes were still on fire, and he couldn’t help but think of Sigrun. He smiled as he blasted them with a shot of ice.

You remember how she always asked me to light bushes on fire, Justice? What did she say? That they were evil, Anders thought, that they needed to be burned. He felt a burst of joy from the spirit at the thought of their old friend. Justice’s happiness was infectious, and Anders’s smile grew larger.

Movement caught the corner of Anders’s eye and turned to see Hawke bounded over to the older dwarf and elf duo. He was stopped by Merrill, who was just done icing down several trees and bushes. She pranced up to the burly man and gave him a tight hug and kiss. Anders couldn’t hear what was said, but he imagined the Dalish woman was making sure he was okay, which was understandable. He couldn’t imagine how he’d felt if it had been Fenris down in the fiery inferno that engulfed the Templar camp.

Hawke ensured her that he was fine and he must have told her to help the others because Merrill gave him another hug and walked away. Anders watched her go to where Isabela, Fenris, and Varric were huddled together over something. His attention drifted to his younger self. The young him sat on a piece of rubble, his head buried in his hands. _I believe he is troubled._ Thank you, Justice, I would never have guessed that, Anders thought. _You are quite welcome,_ Justice sounded quite pleased with himself that was able to help _._ The poor spirit still did not understand sarcasm.

Hawke’s voice pulled Anders attention onto the rogue. “How did you find us?”

“Oh, you know, saw the giant fiery explosion off in the distance and thought ‘who pissed off Blondie today.’ Followed the smoke, and got here just in time to get in one kill.” Varric’s voice dripped with sarcasm, but none of the jovial tones his younger self would have. He sounded bitter. Anders flinched and looked away.

_The dwarf mocks us._

Not now, Anders thought. The spirit gave a mental huff and curled in the back of Anders mind, for which he was grateful for. He focused on a pile of still burning corpses, and froze them, putting out the fire.

“Is that who did this?” Aveline’s voice was accusatory, and he felt her eyes on him. He didn’t even remember doing this, why was he being judged?

“Actually, that was Justice. Anders had some sort of mental break down, and the crazy bastard fucked up the plan and went nuts. He started roasting everyone in sight.” Hawke answered.

The man’s words brought Justice back to the forefront. _Hawke disrespected me! Defend my honor or let me do it!_

Anders rolled his eyes. Will you relax? We don’t even know what happened, Anders tried to soothe the spirit, but Justice was too insulted.

_…I am not insane._

“The spirit is not a crazy bastard.” Fenris snapped. Varric snorted loudly. Anders could visualize Fenris turning his glare on the dwarf.

 _At least_ he _will defend my honor_.

Anders decided to cut in, but not to defend the pouting spirit’s honor. “Why did he, me, other me freak out?” Anders asked. He personally felt, regardless what some people told him, that his emotional breakdowns never had good reasons behind them. That didn’t stop him from being curious to his younger self’s plight.

“Apparently you, the other you, recognized some Templars. You freaked out, and that caused Justice to freak out. And then boom, big fiery blast that killed almost everyone.” Anders winced at the poor choice of words. Even Justice recoiled. Fenris and Varric shot him looks over the shoulder; one of sympathy and one of contempt, respectively. Hawke didn’t notice.

Then the rest of what Hawke said hit Anders. His eyes widen “I recognized Templars? Here?”

Varric, or rather the one from the past answered, “I think this was one of them.”

They all turned to see Varric, Isabela, and Merrill walking up to the group. Young Fenris walked behind them, carrying a body, a Templar, over his shoulders. He unceremoniously dropped the Templar at his older counterpart’s feet. The man landed with a grunt. Fenris stood in Anders way, and couldn’t see who the Templar was.

Anders walked closer to get a better look. He wasn’t the only one. He heard Aveline’s heavy boots clanking behind him, and seemly out of thin air, Sebastian appeared at his side. It caused Anders to falter and stop. The archer gave Anders an odd look over his shoulder but did nothing else. _This is not the same Prince we know, Anders. We cannot judge him for the threats that he had not yet make. It would not be Just._

Anders wished he could argue, but couldn’t. He shook his head and made his way to stand between his husband and Isabela. This Templar, thankfully, was not affected by red lyrium like the others. He looked down, and yes, he did know this man, but he could not place a name. He had short blonde hair, almost a light brown, that reminded Anders of Knight-Captain Cullen. The man opened his sunken-in-eyes and recognized Anders immediately.

“Oh, fuck no, there’s two of you.” The man wheezed out.

Anders gasped, and covered his mouth! “Carrol!?” The second the name left his mouth, Justice began to look through his memories to find Carrol’s crimes. Please don’t do this now, Justice, Anders asked. Now would not be a good time. _I apologize._ The spirit stopped, but he stood at the forefront of Anders’s mind, a presence of comfort.

Carrol rolled his eyes. “No, it’s the Queen of Antiva.” He slowly sat up, but it didn’t move to attack. He hadn’t been the brightest Templar, but he hadn’t been stupid. He winced in pain, and Anders had to stop himself from sending a wave a healing magic. “I don’t want to know how or why there’s two of everyone, but I don’t care. Not after I saw what these fuckers did to Ol’ Tom, I know I’m fucked anyhow. Why should I care.” He gestured his head at Young Fenris, and then Isabela.

“What is he talking about?” Aveline asked.

“Anders, not this one, pointed out a Templar who abused little boys back in his old Circle,” Isabela answered. “Broody and I took exception and taught him a painful lesson.”

Anders tried to think about who she was talking about. He felt a hand on his shoulder, and he turned to see his husband looking rather concerned and horrified. He glanced around at everyone else and saw they shared the same worried expression. Why were they all looking at him like that? Unless...Oh. They thought he was one of those little boys. "Look, I don't know what you're talking about, Isabela, I barely remembered this idiot. I don't think there was any Ser Toms' at the Circle...wait." Anders thought for a moment. Ol’ Tom? Did Carrol mean…“Ser Thomas?" An old fear he buried years ago resurfaced and panic took over.  "He’s here?” His voice cracked, and he gripped his staff tightly. His eyes darted about and stumbled backward.

Fenris went to his side and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Breathe, Amatus, you’re safe. I am not going to let anything happen to you.” Anders nodded slowly; he was being ridiculous and irrational. _You are not being ridiculous, Anders_.

“That shit was never proven! That fucking knife-ear Surana made it up!” Carrol was quick to defend Ser Thomas. He let out two loud grunts when Young Fenris kicked twice. Merrill muttered something in Dalish which sounded like a swore.

Anders snapped his attention back at the bloodied Templar. _He insulted the Commander!_ Justice’s voice bellowed within his head. He flinched and rubbed the back of his head.

Varric got closer to the human. “You know, I know the Hero, and you aren’t even worthy of wiping his ass.”

Carrol didn’t agree. “That little shit was a little trouble-maker. Maybe not as much as _him_ ,” he jabbed a finger at Anders’s direction, “but because Surana had been Irving’s pet elf, he got away with everything. Bit Irving in the ass in the end though. Should have made the whole tower Tranquil when we had a chance, you included.” He spat out. Anders couldn’t believe he had once thought Carrol was one of the good ones.

 “Is there a reason why we’re letting this fuck to live any longer?” Hawke asked.

Aveline nodded in agreement, “I don’t see the point of keeping him alive.”

“Yeah, there is.” Young Varric answered. “He won’t give us a straight answer to our questions about the red lyrium.”

“You know, I was wondering the same thing,” Varric said. “Great minds think alike, no?”

“You and I, my friend, both have great minds.” A smug grin spread across the dwarf’s face, before it grew serious again. “Broody here couldn’t scare any information out what we wanted, and Sparky is too damn scary to get anything out of anyone, so I figured you,” he pointed at Aveline, “might be able to beat it out of him.” Anders couldn’t hold back the giggle when Justice stopped mid rant on the old Circle system to whine about Varric’s nicknames. It came out more nervous than he intended too, and Fenris squeezed his arm.

Carrol rolled his eyes. “I told ya, I didn’t know shit about it. Most of us weren’t even drinking that shit. Only a few us did, like Eileen and Ol’ Tom. All I can tell ya is that they came from the Red Templars.”

“Red Templars? Is that a faction of Templars that left The Chantry?” Sebastian inquired.

Varric shook his head, “I never heard anything called the Red Templars, but it was nearly every Templar, not just a fraction.”

“We didn’t have a damn choice! We had it fucking good in the Towers, and the mages went and cocked it up.” Carrol defended himself.

“I’m so sorry us mages wanted basic rights!” Anders snapped.

“Piss off. You could have had it good too if you would have just shut up and done what was told.”

Justice flared, and Anders gripped his staff. “Maker, you’re a prick. Of course, you had it good in the Circle. You had a good system with mages. You tell them you would protect them if they lift their robes up for you.”

“You all about that,” he sneered. Fenris left Anders side the second the words left the man’s lips. His brands lit up and plunged his hands into Carrol’s chest. The dead man’s eyes widen briefly, just before Fenris tore out his heart. Carrol slumped to ground.

“There, it’s done.” Fenris dropped the organ with a thud and turned gave Anders an expected look. Justice, who had been pace in the front of his mind, wanted to rush over and kiss their husband.

And this was where host and spirit disagreed. It always made Anders queasy when Fenris ripped out people’s hearts, whereas it made Justice giddy. Anders learned joking was a great way to fight down the bile that threatened to crawl up his throat. “How romantic reminds me when Justice gave you those slavers' heads one year for Satinalia.” Justice felt smug about the reminder. Fenris certainly enjoyed the gift.

 Uncaring for those around, Fenris strutted over and wrapped his arms—bloody hand and all—around Anders. He gave Anders a small smile. “That was a nice Satinalia.” Fenris grabbed Anders’s collar and pulled the mage into a kiss. Anders forgot the bloody hand and everyone around them and happily returned the kiss.

“Okay, stop it, you two make me sick.” Varric groaned.

“So, this is what we have to look forward too?” Aveline asked, over Merrill’s giggles and Hawke and Isabela’s fake gags.

 “They were normal once,” Varric shook his head. “But around the time Hawke used Blondie as dragon bait, they’ve been handsy ever since. It’s disgusting.”

Fenris pulled back just in time for Anders to see the accusatory glares thrown Hawke’s way. Aveline jabbed a finger at Hawke. “You used one of ours’ dragon bait?”

“And you used our only healer?” Young Fenris added.

 “You can’t yell at me for something I haven’t even done yet!” Hawke said defensively.

“Why would Hawke even think it was a good idea?” Isabela asked, her eyes on Varric, but it was Anders who answered.

“It was another one of those ‘Team Building Exercises’ he was so blighted fond of. He thought if one of us was in danger, it would push everyone else to kill the dragon faster,” Anders explained. “The worse bit was, after I gain consciousness, I had to spend hours healing Hawke.” Everyone raised their eyebrows at him to explain, “Fenris wasn’t happy and…er…almost killed Hawke.” He added.

“You're still alive, so I don’t see the problem.” Hawke shrugged. He barely dodged Aveline’s fist to his shoulder.

“Of course, you don’t, Killer,” Varric sighed.

“Is there a reason why you’re here, dwarf,” Fenris started, taking his frustrations at Hawke on Varric, “or did you come all the way here to swindle my money out of me?”

“Us, love. That was _our_ money that he swindled out of _us_.” Anders corrected, which Fenris ignored.

Varric shrugged. “Can’t I visit my old friends? I haven’t seen Daisy in two years.” He held out his hands directed to Merrill, who was never one to reject free hugs, walked around the corpse and gave the dwarf a hug.

“Well, this is a nice picture and all, but shouldn’t we be digging through these guys pockets for information since this jackass didn’t have any?” Young Varric suggested.

“Ay, a group this big must have had documents, such as letters or journals,” Sebastian interjected.

“I already thought of that.” Everyone shifted and turned to see Young Anders had joined the group. He stood behind Hawke and Aveline. In his arms were several pieces of paper. Though his face and hair was specked with blood, while his coat was stained with the red liquid. So was Freedom’s Call, Anders noticed. His old staff was drenched in it actually. He would need to offer some his clothes to his younger self, however, he wondered if they would fit properly. His younger self looked utterly malnourished. Young Anders continued, “I figured I’d busy myself while you lot interrogate Carrol and I found these.” He handed some to the younger dwarf, Aveline, and Hawke. Merrill let go of Varric to look what was in Hawke’s hands.

Isabela bounded over and leaned over Young Varric’s shoulder, “what do they say?”

“Just from a glance, they’re mostly letters between different fractions of Templars. This fraction had been searching for the Commander. I guess he disappeared, but there were rumors he was with the Dalish. When they didn’t find him, I guess they just decided to kill innocent people. A bunch of blighted, bigoted, racist bastards.” His face contorted into disgust with every word said. Flecks of blue appeared in his eyes. He cleared his throat and continued. “Anyway, these pieces of paper are more useful than this prick.”

Varric ran a hand through his hair and turned around. He stared up at Anders and Fenris for a moment, not joining the others. He took a deep breath and looked over his shoulder and said, “you kids have fun reading. Uncle Varric needs to have a private chat with Papa Fenris and Daddy Anders.” He nodded at the married couple follow. Anders shared a look with his lover before they trailed behind the dwarf.

“Since you three aren’t helping, you’re not getting any loot,” Hawke shouted over his shoulder.

“I just collected on a bet that was seven years in the making, but maybe you should save some for the happy couple,” Varric yelled back.

He led them near the massive doors to the ruins. Anders took in his old friend’s appearance for the first time since he showed up. He still wore his leather coats, he was still beardless, and he still had the same gold chain. But he was haggard and tired. His coat was in a bad shape that his younger self would never let happen. While a stocky race, Varric grown thin by dwarf standards. Anders felt a new wave guilt.

“What do you need to talk about that we need to do it in private?” Fenris pulled Anders from his thoughts and back into reality.

Varric sighed and ran his hand over hair, smoothing down strands in the process. He was silent for several heart beats. He was thinking over his words, how to soften the blow. After too long in Justice’s opinion, the dwarf spoke. “Fuck it. I can’t think of a good way to put this: It’s Choir Boy, he’s on his way here.”

Fenris swore while Anders closed his eyes. There it was. He thought about the possibility of Sebastian remembering. He looked down at the dwarf, “How long do we have?”

Varric shrugged. “Warned the King and Queen about the wayward Prince. They aren’t happy about a small army peppered with Orlaisian soldiers is crossing their borders for one apostate.”

That sounded like good news to him. “So, he might not even show up for this reunion?” Anders asked hopefully, his eyes darted between Fenris and Varric.

Fenris, on the other hand, wasn’t so idealistic. “What aren’t you telling us?”

“That army is a decoy; he’s got more men on their way here. He’s with them. I have a day or two ahead of them.”

“How did you avoid them?” Anders asked.

“I got good dodging Chantry types. A lady Seeker has been hounded me ever since I published my book,” Varric ran a hand through his hair again. “I should have waited until this Mage-Templar nonsense was done.” Anders thought the book shouldn’t have been published period. The dwarf implied Anders ate a cat! A cat! The second he read that tidbit, he put the blighted book down and never picked it up again.

“There’s more you’re not saying, Varric.” Fenris stated. “What do you remember.”

“That’s it,” Varric held up his hands. “That’s all I got for you. I don’t remember much, I didn’t even recall there being freaking Templars here.”

Fenris didn’t believe him. He stepped forward, and pointed a finger in the dwarf’s face. “I finished your book, I know how it ends.” His voice was accusatory, and Anders wondered what they were talking about. _You don’t want to know._ Justice said. Anders narrowed his eyes in confusion, but the spirit stayed silent.

Varric cocked his head to the side, gave the elf a harsh look. “I don’t see how the ending of my book has to do with this.”

“Doesn’t it? Maybe you prefer _that_ ending.”

Varric stumbled backward, as if he had been slapped. “How dare you.” The dwarf whispered in a low voice, his eyes narrowed down into slits.

“What are you two on about?” Anders demanded. He wasn’t going to be put out of the loop.  

Fenris turned around, still pointing at Varric, “he killed you off in his damn book of his!”

Anders wasn’t expected that. “You killed me?” He was more curious then upset, which confused Justice.

“For your own damn good.” Varric all but shouted. “If the Chantry thought you were dead, they wouldn’t come after you. It’s the same reason why I didn’t write about you two being together. They track Fenris down, and find you in the process.” He reeled on Fenris. “I was protecting him, so how fucking dare you think I want him dead.” He sounded like he was justifying his writing to himself and not to them.

“Excuse me for thinking that when you wanted it to happen that night!" Fenris yelled.

“I was pissed off, dammit. He just blew a fucking hole in the middle of Hightown!”

“But you defended Isabela!”

“She didn’t cause it! You can’t just act like it’s the same shit!”

“Vishante kaffas!” Fenris threw his hands up and stalked back and forth. “Even months afterwards you were still blaming him for any death indirectly connected to mages or Templars! You all were! And beyond that, you down played everything he did in Kirkwall just to make him sound insane from the start! As I’ve said time and time again, all of us defended Isabela from the Qunari, we helped Merrill slaughter her own clan, we stood by all of Hawke’s fucked ups, and yet none of you could do the same for Anders. Excuse me if I doubt your noble intentions to warn us, dwarf.” Fenris stopped and his face twisted in a vicious sneer; a mix of bitter self-satisfaction and cold disdain. Anders knew that expression. It was the look Fenris got when he was about to land a low blow in an argument. Anders winced, and readied himself for the bomb. “You were so ready to see your own brother dead, why not someone who you’re not even related to.”

Varric’s mouth pressed into a thin line, his eyes twisted and even though he wasn’t holding Bianca, his trigger hand twitched. “You son-of-a-bitch.” Varric went for his crossbow, and Fenris grabbed his sword.

Anders had enough this. “Stop!” He stalked between Fenris and Varric, and pushed the elf back to put distance between the two men. “You went too far,” He shouted. “How could you throw Bartend in Varric’s face like that? We, _Varric_ and myself, had to convince you not to kill Varania and you have the fucking gall to bring up his brother?” Fenris took a step back and looked at his feet. His anger melting away to give room for shame. Anders ignored his need to comfort the elf to turn toward Varric. “Understand this, mortal,” a hint of Justice crawled into his voice, “if you even think about pulling your weapon on **our husband again, you will be dead**.” Justice’s voice boomed, echoing around them.

Varric didn’t back away from the angry spirit, but he didn’t meet Justice’s eyes. The dwarf never could. He was afraid of Judgement, Justice thought. Finally, after a moment, Varric bit out, “understood.”

Justice receded and gave Anders control again. He saw no point of this argument. They should be preparing themselves to face Sebastian Vael once and for all. Anders agreed. He looked at Fenris and Varric, neither one looked up from the ground. He sighed and spoke up again, calmer than before. He addressed Fenris first. “Listen, I don’t care if Varric used his book to vent his frustrations at me. It doesn’t mean a damn thing to me he killed me off in his shitty novel. He’s angry, and rightfully so. I blew up the Chantry and forced not just us, but also our friends to flee our home. If Varric wants to be mad and make me a loon, fine, I’m a bit crazy anyway. I’ve always been upset he wrote that I’d eat a cat over starving to death.” Anders heard snorting behind him and he turned to see Varric covering his face. He raised his eyebrows and crossed his “Is something funny?”

Varric looked up, and gave Anders a tired smirk. “I went too far with that one, didn’t I?”

“Yes, you did.” Anders snapped. “You might think it’s funny, but the only thing that kept me sane while I was in solitary had been the Tower’s mouser. I actually did go without food when I had options.”

Guilt washed over Varric’s face and replaced any ironic humor. “Anders, Blondie, I know I went too far in book.” He held out his hands, as if he held out a peace offering. “I upped the bad, and downplayed the good. I knew that when I wrote the damn thing. And fuck,” he rubbed the back of his neck, “Broody’s right. I gave Rivaini and Daisy second chances the second they fucked up…but I didn’t give you one.” And then he added under his breath, “just like Bartend.”

Anders rubbed his arm and looked anywhere but Varric. He felt his bottom lip tremble. He wasn’t going to cry. Nope. He was grown man and he wasn’t going to cry.

Varric sighed and Anders turned at the noise. The dwarf held out his arms, offering a hug.

Alright, he was going to cry a little bit.  


	7. A Path Less Chosen By Me

The ruins were a gorgeous example of ancient Tevinter architecture. Tree roots and vines have broken through the floors, interrupting ornate patterns. There was dust covered skeletons that littered the place, but it was hard to tell if they from an old civilization, or made when Alim Surana marched through here a decade prior.

And there was no doubt Surana had been through here. After exploring two levels, no one had found anything worth stealing, much to the dismay of Isabela. But to the delight of Merrill, she had accumulated a nice collection of elvish books and even talked to an ancient elf spirit. Eventually, the group had stumbled upon an old mage’s lab after a half. It was one of the more massive rooms in the old building, with plenty of private nooks and crannies for Anders to change into a new set of clothes. His own outfit was ruined by Justice’s blood bath hours prior. He would need to get a new coat when he got back to his own time. Only his socks, boots, and belt were still in decent condition.

Anders and his older self stood far off to side staring at a pile of clothes. Anders didn’t agree to it at first, he didn’t feel comfortable taking anything from someone who barely had any possessions, but Old Anders insisted. Anders never knew how pushy he could be.

“Right,” Old Anders started. He laid out three pairs of pants and five tunics on the ground at Anders’s feet. He had only one set of robes, the one he wore yesterday, but that was off limits. “Now like I said you can have whatever you like. All the tunics are enchanted, of course, and you can have my spare leather vest and arm bracers.” He gave Anders a small smile.

“Are you sure?” Anders worried his bottom lip. He was hugging himself in an attempt to keep warm. He had nothing on, having to summon water to rid himself on the blood that soaked through his clothes.

“Of course,” Old Anders said earnestly. “Look, your own pants were barely holding on as it was, and I know you had that same tunic for two years now with only one replacement.” Anders nodded; he supposed his older self would know that.” Listen, I don’t need much anyway. I’m leaving on the run already, so you can take more than one tunic if you need it. The worse will happen is Fenris will lecture me about giving away my things for free again.”

“Alright, but I’ll just take one.” Anders grabbed the most worn out pair of pants and slipped them on. They were more like tight leggings that did little in the modesty department. He had to tuck himself in to even wear them. Anders twisted to see what his butt looked like. “Maker, I bet your ass looked great in these.” He turned to face Old Anders, who’s smile twisted into a flirty smirk.

The older man crossed his arms and cocked his hip, “You damn right. Fenris practically growled when saw me in them.”

Anders mimicked the pose, “well, I can’t say I blame him, you’re quite the handsome mage.” He eyed his older self; he was very attractive.

“You’re not so bad on the eyes yourself.”

They could have gone like this for hours, but they were interrupted by Hawke. “Oh, for fuck sake’s, first you two try and out martyr each other, now you’re flirting?”

The two mages looked to the table that everyone was standing around at. Suddenly, Anders realized he didn’t give himself as much privacy as he thought he did. How long did he stand there naked trying to decipher what to wear? Probably too long given the amused smirk on Isabela’s face, the intrigued look on Merrill’s, and the various embarrassed expressions on everyone else. Anders knew he should care, but years of bathing in communal washrooms in the circle had beaten the shame about public nudity out of him. So he shrugged unapologetically at his friends, not caring they all saw him naked.

“At least he’s wearing pants finally.” Sebastian grumbled, “if you can call them that.” The Brother was busy looking through a book he couldn’t possibly understand. He wasn’t the only one. Everyone had their own book to look for images that might relate to time or Tevinter cats, though Isabela and Merrill had foregone theirs in favor to stare at Anders. Even Old Fenris was pretending the two mages didn’t exist. Anders rolled his eyes, but stop mid roll once he saw Fenris-his Fenris-wasn’t there.

“I don’t know, I quite enjoyed the show.” Merrill chirped, before turning her back at the two mages and return to her book. Unlike the others, she could actually read the books she pcked out. Merrill decided that it wouldn’t hurt to look in elvish texts for a counter spell.

Hawke was less amused. “You were ogling him? He’s a blighted scarecrow!”

Merrill didn’t even look up at her boyfriend, “but he’s a pretty scarecrow.”

Anders ignored Hawke’s rants. He bent down and picked up short-sleeved tunic. It was a dark red with a black pattern. Red was his least favorite color, but his older self wouldn’t mind if it was gone. He slipped it on. The tunic was baggy in some areas, but tighter around his hips. It fell to his knees and had slits on its side. Upon closer examination, the black pattern was of cute little roses and thorns. That made Anders realize the tunic was actually a woman’s dress. No wonder his older self gotten the tunic, despite the hideous base color. He smiled down at the piece of clothing, feeling quite the pretty scarecrow that he was.

Old Anders handed him the vest and arm guards to put on then went to clean up their mess. As Anders tightened the straps on the guards first, he inspected his older self’s staff that leaned against the wall in front of him. The staff was made from a mossy-colored wood. Dark branches crawled up and down the smooth piece of wood, however, they clustered at the top and bottom. The branches at the top held a blade, turning the weapon into a spear. At the base of the blade, there was a black gem shaped like an eye. Anders preferred the look of Freedom’s Call, but he sensed the power radiating off this staff. It was like a piece of the Fade stared directly at him.

“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” Anders flinched and turned to see his older self was done with packing.

“She?” He asked. He finished strapping his new vest.

“Yep. I call her Lady of the Forest. I know she’s different from Freedom’s Call, but I’m quite happy I have her.”

Anders bent down to slip on his socks. “Lady of the Forest? Why that name?”

Old Anders didn’t reply at first. Anders glanced up briefly to see the perplexed expression on the other mage’s face. He balled his hand into a fist and rested his chin to ponder the question. “Maker, I don’t know. The name seemed like it fit. I don’t even remember how I got her.”

Anders frowned but didn’t say anything else. He put on his boots quickly, grabbed his belt and stood up. His belt hung low on him without the extra bulk of his coat; he hoped that won’t hinder him in a fight. His eyes flickered at the others. Fenris still hadn’t come back. Anders returned his attention back to his future self. “Look, I know I’m leaving you with a lot of reading, but I need a moment by myself…after what happened…with the Templars…”

Understanding spread across Old Anders’s face. “Yes! Of course. I understand, completely. Take as long as you need. Um yes, right.” He left.

Anders quietly snorted. It was too easy to lie to himself. He grabbed Freedom’s Call and his own bag and headed for the exit. He called over his shoulder before he left, “I’m going to go look for more books.”

“Don’t get into any trouble,” Aveline warned.

“And find some damn smalls while you’re at it!” Hawke hollered after him.

Anders waved a hand in the air but didn’t say any more. He left the ancient lab and entered the elven ritual chamber. There he found Fenris sitting on the steps going up. They made eye contact before Fenris sharply turned away.

“Are you done with your show mage?” He spat out. The elf was brooding out here because he was embarrassed. 

“You call that a show?” He asked as he walked up to the elf. He didn’t stop and continued up the short flight. When got to the top he glanced over his shoulder and smirked. “I didn’t even do the spicy shimmy.” He turned back around and stalked out of the room.

Anders didn’t bother to slow down for Fenris; he didn’t need to. He went left down one of the many hallways and suddenly the elf was right next to him. Fenris could have been an excellent assassin Anders mused.

“What’s the spicy shimmy?” Fenris’s tried to sound as if he was just curious, but Anders heard the subtle heat in the elf’s voice. He shouldn’t be surprised, but he was. As He pointed out last night, the two of them were going to be a couple in few months. Though Anders wouldn’t have guessed Fenris found him attractive now.

Anders gave the other man a coy smile, one worthy of Isabela, “Oh, just a little dance I learned from my time working in the brothel.” He swayed his hips to side and side and bumped into Fenris. He snickered when the elf glared at him.

“You’re worse than then the pirate.”

“If you think I’m bad now, you should have met me when I was younger. Bela has nothing on me when I was in my twenties.”

Fenris rolled his eyes. “I perish the thought of you being worse.”

Anders chuckled. “It’s true. I was shameless twenty-something-year-old living only for the next rush.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Fenris raise an eyebrow.

“And stripping down naked in front of your friends and stand around naked for thirty minutes isn’t shameless?”

They came to a fork in one of the side passages; there were two hallways that led to different rooms. One was well lit for an underground tunnel, the other was not. Anders chewed on his bottom lip on which way he should go. He turned Fenris, about to tell another flirty joke when he realized how embarrassed the elf truly was. Anders remembered the conversation they had last night. He shouldn’t mock Fenris’s discomfort. He frowned and decided a different direction. He tapped his staff on the ground and summoned a green ball of light.

Anders pushed down his fear of the dark and went down the darkened path, Fenris followed. “Where are we going, mage?”

“I wanted to go on a walk, maybe explore more. I’m not sure why you’re here.”

“You seem to get in trouble when others aren’t around,” Fenris said, his voice was even and cool. He needed control over the topic and flow of conversation to more at ease, Anders thought. He was fine lending the reigns over. 

“I overheard that little story about Hawke using me as bait,” Anders watched his feet, stepping over broken tiles and thick tree roots. “I think I get into trouble with other people.” His foot caught on a gnarled root. He almost fell, if it were not for Fenris catching him by the arms. The claw-like fingers dug into the flesh of Anders’s arms, and Anders clung to the warrior’s shoulders. He looked down at the ground then back up again and gave Fenris a sheepish grin.

“It sounds like a habit of yours, constantly tripping into trouble.” Fenris deadpanned.

“You’re trouble I take it?” Anders flashed a cocky grin; he couldn’t stop himself from flirting. It was like breathing air, it just came to him.

Fenris scoffed and pushed the mage upright. “You didn’t answer the question, mage, where are we going?”

“I like this _we_ business,” Anders stepped around Fenris. “And I did tell you. I thought elves were better at hearing than humans, but here you are, not listening.”

“Fine, your non-answer leads me to another question. Why are you going on for a walk or exploring as you said? We found a mage’s lab. If the answers we seek are in these ruins, they would be back there.”

“Maker, you’re annoying.” Anders sighed. They rounded a corner and he heard a crunch underfoot. They stopped to see what was on the ground. He stepped on a skull of a rather large wolf. Lovely. They looked up and met each other’s gaze. “I don’t have a real reason, alright. I told Old Anders that I wanted to be alone after what happened, but I…I guess I wasn’t lying to myself earlier.” Or he did lie to himself, but not his future self.

Fenris nodded in sympathy. Anders watched the elf fidget before he asked, “would you feel better talking about it?” They were both stunned by Fenris’s offer.

“I…no, no thank you.” Anders stammered. “I appreciate your concern, however. I assume you know what’s like with bad memories bubbling up to the surface.”

Fenris stepped over a massive tree root and held out his Anders, who accepted it. “I do know. However, I do not have Justice living inside my head. He makes it worse for you.”

Anders winced. The mention of the spirit’s name called him just below the surface. “He’s trying to help, but when he ciphers through my memories it’s like he's experiencing it. He was once a pure and innocent spirit who couldn’t even grasp owning a pet. He thought my cat was a slave for Maker’s sake.” He could almost hear Justice muttering owning a living being is slavery. “How do you think he’s going to handle feeling a beating, or the other things I lived through? Also, when I don’t act, I’ve given into demons of Sloth. The first few weeks we shared a body, he panicked every time I fell asleep. I think that’s why he takes over, he doesn’t get it I suppose.”

Fenris raised an eyebrow. “He thought your cat was a slave? He does understand a housecat would die in the wilderness?” Anders gave the elf a look. Fenris sighed. “Venhedis. Your spirit is a soft-hearted fool like you.”

Anders blinked at the insulting compliment; Justice was just as confused as he was. “Thanks…I think.”

Fenris ignored him and continued. “None of that excuses your spirit, however. I supported his actions today because those  _Templars_ ,” there was such venom in that word he might as have said magisters, “deserved it, but I am not a fool, mage. He forced you to relive bad memories and that caused your freak out and loss of control. He took advantage. One day he will go after someone who is less deserving of his ire.”

Anders didn’t respond. Ella had been almost been one of Justice’s victims. The spirit had recoiled away from any thoughts of the girl. What Fenris talked about already happened and this was a warning that it could happen again. Anders was startled out of his thoughts when he felt a weight had lifted off his hand. Fenris had been holding his hand this whole time and Fenris hand just let go. The elf crossed his arms, looking away.

“I apologize, mage. You said you didn’t wish to speak about what happened, and yet I am lecturing you. And I suppose I’m lecturing the spirit as well. I am the one person in Thedas who should.”

Anders didn’t question Fenris on what he meant. They fell into a short silence.

Anders hated it; the twisting hallways were too dark, too narrow too quiet. The only thing stopping him from collapsing into a sobbing mess in a corner was Justice in his head and a broody elf at his side. That didn’t mean he wasn’t nervous.

What did Anders do when he’s a bundle of nerves? Run his mouth without thought.

They passed over another werewolf skeleton. “Surana sure left a lot of bodies behind.” He said absently.

Fenris jumped slightly, the noise startling him. He whipped his head to the side to glare at Anders. “What?”

Anders shrugged. “Uh, my old commander. He came through here during the Blight and it looks like he cleared the ruins out.”

Fenris looked back down at the ground. He side-stepped over a leg bone, “That’s an understatement.”

“Maker, he was efficient at killing,” Anders muttered a small hint of disgust had crept into his voice. “Sometimes he did so much damage on the battle field that enemies dropped before our warriors could pull out their weapons. Though, he was always the first one to fall in battle. Too much blood lost.”

 “He’s a blood mage.” Fenris snarled. “And you followed him willingly?”

Anders nodded, “I did, but I didn’t like it. I hated his blood magic, even if he isn’t like your typical blood mage.” The elf didn’t believe him. He sighed and explained, “Surana is a Warden, and us Warden mages don’t need draw power from demons. We can use the taint within our blood. He never made a deal with a demon to learn blood magic. Which doesn't mean it's still good; he's spreading darkspawn taint every time he slices his palm. Or neck." Anders scrunched his nose up in disgust at the memory of Surana's spell, the Dark Sustenance. 

Unexpectedly, Fenris didn’t start yelling. He grew quiet and contemplative. After a moment, he responded. “I know nothing about the Wardens, what you say sounds is plausible about the taint, but a blood mage always makes deals with demons.”

“Not Surana. He learned his blood magic from a book.”

Fenris didn’t seem to buy that either. He arched a judgmental brow. “A book, mage? You expect me to believe that?”

“It’s true.” Anders held out his hands in defense. “Our First Enchanter, Irving, he used to do this horrid trick on apprentices. He left tomes about blood magic in the library. If a kid even touched the blighted books, Knight-Commander Greagor would put them to the brand.”

“You’re serious?”

“Completely serious!” Anders’s words echoed around them, causing Fenris to winced. “Sorry. It’s just Irving was supposed to look out for us and did shady shit for the Templars. Surana was one of the lucky ones. He had been Irving’s star apprentice and he read the books while cleaning Irving’s office.” He crossed his arms. He hated that old bastard.

Fenris hummed. “There were slaves like that.”

Anders’s eyes flicked to Fenris. “Like what? Shady assholes who sold their own kind out?”

Fenris matched his gaze and nodded, before turning away. “My ma-Danarius had trained several slaves to watch out for runners, for thieves, and the weak-minded and report to him of any supposed disobedience. They were awarded for their loyalty. Most would earn false praise, but some of the luckier few would get material possessions. Maybe their own slaves. Loathe to admit it, but…what your First Enchanter did sounds similar to the slaves I mentioned. I don’t think he did it out of any malice, Anders. He might not have known any better or didn’t have a choice.” Fenris looked down, his hair covered his eyes. His ears drooped ever so slightly, but it was enough for Anders to notice.

Anders held in a gasp as he realized Fenris was talking about himself. Not only that, he compared himself to a mage. He wondered if the day’s events helped change Fenris’s perspective.

“I didn’t think about it like that. Sometimes I forget First Enchanters are just like the rest of us.”

Fenris started to respond when he suddenly stopped short. Anders turned slightly, not watching where he was going, and slammed his left shoulder into a door frame.

“Andraste’s fucking knickers!”

Anders stumbled backward and was caught by Fenris. He winced at the elf’s tight grip. Fenris didn’t noticed and moved to Anders’s left to examine the already bruising arm. “Are you okay, mage?”

He pouted looking at the purple and blue splotches forming on his skin. “Nothing I can’t heal.”

“Good, then I suggest we turn around. You led us to a dead-end.” Fenris pointed ahead. Anders looked forward to see a pitch-black room. He scoffed.

“It’s not a dead-end. There could be something in there.” Feeling brave, Anders summoned a small ball of fire and actually walked through the doorframe this time.


	8. A Virtue By Any Other Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders: You said that demons were spirits perverted by their desires.  
> Justice: I have no such desires.  
> Anders: You must have some desires...  
> Justice: I have none! Desist your questions!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two things about this chapter:  
> 1\. I'm pretty sure I'm misremembering the layout of the werewolf liar, so I apologize for that.  
> 2\. That title is a reference to Romeo and Juliet.

Fenris had a bad feeling about this, but he followed Anders into the room. Between the green Fade light that fluttered and bounced over the mage’s head and the fire in his left hand was enough to light up the room, much to his relief. He might not share the same crippling fear as Anders, but Fenris still hated the darkness. Years of Danarius locking him in cramp, holes in the ground for punishment did that to him. He scanned the room and it was a disaster. Weeds and mushrooms nearly covered the floor. Piles of dirt, and bones were piled high off the ground. A large tree that broke through the ceiling. On the right side of the room, there was a pool of water. Fenris eyed the body of water. He expected something would  

Fenris took another step in only to have something crunch under his foot. He lifted his foot, expecting parts of werewolf skeleton, only to see it was a large bug. There were a thousand of tiny legs attached to silver body. The appendages twitched as the body squirmed and wiggled, struggling to stay alive. Fenris shivered and frantically wiped the bug guts off his foot onto his pants leg. Carefully, he navigated his way over to Anders. The other man was hunched over something in the back far from the water. Fenris wanted to know what gotten the mage’s interest.

“This place is abysmal, we should get back to the others.” Fenris said as he got closer. And it was true, there was something terribly wrong about this room. He stood over Anders and saw the mage tugging at a lock on a chest. “One of our rogues will be able to pick that for us.”

“And here I thought you’d feel at home. The décor reminds me of your mansion,” Anders turned slightly and flashed a playful smirk to show his words weren’t meant to offend.

Fenris scoffed. “I will not have Kirkwall’s very own sewer hermit criticize the state of my home.”

“Sewer hermit?” Anders stood up slowly. “That’s a new one.” He crossed his arms and looked as if he was pondering the insult. Then his eyes lit up as he snapped his fingers and pointed at Fenris, “Hey! You think I can get Varric to use that for the title of the book he’s writing about me?” Suddenly, he wrapped an arm around Fenris and dragged the elf close so they were pressed side to side. “Renegade Mage: The Life and Times of Kirkwall’s Sewer Hermit.” Anders gestured in the air to put emphasis on each word. He glanced back down at Fenris, “it would be full of action, love, and tragedy. And cats.”

Fenris rolled his eyes and pushed Anders off him. “That’s a terrible story.” Then he smirked, knowing his next words would get the mage going, “It’d better if you replaced cats with dogs.”

He got the reaction he desired. Anders’s playful smug expression soured and a began to pout. “Unbelievable. Of course, you’re a dog person! Or course. Why not? I know we talked about it seems impossible that we’re a happily married couple, but that there just makes me even more confused about our future relationship. A dog person. Between Justice still believing pets are slaves,” Anders’s face scrunched up in irritation for a moment, before he continued. “Fine, the concept of pets is unjust! Blighted prick. Anyway, where was I? Oh, yes, I was complaining. Between Justice and you being a filthy dog person, is why my future self doesn’t have any cats.”

“And the fact we will be fugitives of the Chantry has nothing to do with it?” Fenris asked. Anders raised a finger, ready to respond, realized he couldn’t argue and closed his mouth. Fenris looked back at the chest, “we should take this with us to see if there is anything valuable in it.”

“Maker’s breath, what’s the point of you of you dragging the chest all the way back to the others when there’s a chance there’s nothing in here.” While one hand held a ball of fire, Anders flicked the other and froze the lock. He took a step back and slammed his boot into the lock and shattered it into tiny pieces. He sent a cheeky grin toward Fenris’s way before he bent down and threw the lid open.

“Why couldn’t you have done that sooner? Or any time we go out with Hawke?” Fenris got closer a peered inside and saw nothing but books and a few odd trinkets. He crouched over the chest, but didn’t dare get closer to ground then that. Not after he stepped on that bug earlier.

“Because I don’t want our rogues feel inadequate. Oh, this is pretty.” Anders pulled out a plain necklace. The chain was thin and made out of silver. Hooked to it, was a tiny amber gem that despite had been locked away for a long time, had very little dust. Fenris inspected further and realized nothing within the chest was covered in dust. Anders slipped on the necklace and went after a book first. He let go of his fire spell so he could page through the book. The green wisp wasn’t enough light for Anders to see; he pulled the book close to his face and squinted at the text. “This is intersecting.”

 Fenris leaned over Anders’s shoulder, despite unable to understand the book’s contents. “What is?”

“This is a tome about how to make potions, poisons, flasks, and bombs, both big and small. I’ve been looking for a book like this for a while now.” Anders explained. He turned another page, and he went from excited to disgusted. “Andraste’s tits, this bomb is made out of shit and urine! What can a person do with a shit bomb?” He looked to Fenris as if the elf had any answers.

Fenris shrugged. “You’re the sewer hermit. What would you do with a shit bomb?”

Anders thought for a moment; his head was to the side, his front teeth worried at his bottom lip. “Put under the Grand Cleric’s bed.” A small, wistful smile crept upon his face.

“That would be inadvisable.” Fenris deadpanned.

The light in Anders’s eyes died. “Probably,” Anders put the book down and grabbed another. “This one looks to be written in Dalish, or what the ancient elves used. Merrill will like this one.” He put that one down and picked up a third one.

“Are we just going to sit here while you look through each book?” Fenris peered into the chest and snatched up a small dagger. The sheath was plain, but made out the same silver the necklace was made out of. The handle had three amber gems evenly spaced out as well. He showed Anders, “I believe this goes with your new jewelry.”

Anders glanced at it before going back to the book, “Keep it. I already have a dagger. If I carry any more people might think I’m a blood mage.” He concentrated on the book’s contents.

Fenris slipped the dagger into one of his poaches. He opened his mouth to ask what was so fascinating about this tome when another bout of dread crawled up his spine. He looked around the room. Someone, or some creature was watching them. He swore it. Fenris frowned. There was nothing, but he swore he felt eyes on them. “I think we should take out leave, mage.” Anders didn’t respond. He turned the page, his eyes darted back and forth and he turned another. He slapped one hand over his mouth and his eyes bulged out. Worried, Fenris asked. “Mage?”

He lowered his hand and whispered. “I found it.” Anders whispered, then louder. “I found it!” He sprung to his feet, excitement radiating off of him. Fenris almost doubled over, but recovered and stood up as well.

“Found what, mage?”

“I found our way back home! To our own time!” Anders practically shouted, his mouth broke into a wide grin. He rushed over to Fenris and gave him a back-breaking hug. “We’re going home!”

Fenris, once again, shoved Anders back. “Get off me, mage.”

The elf’s attitude didn’t dampen the mage’s. “And Justice has been telling me to leave this whole time! Ha, if I did that, we’d be stuck in the future!” He shrugged off his bag and shoved the books in. “Look at that, I saved the day. I mean, yeah, I know I’m the one who caused the problem in the first place, but I’m the one who found the counter spell! So, that makes me a hero of sorts.”

Fenris frowned. If the spirit encouraged to leave, then that confirmed Fenris’s concerns. “Mage, we should leave.”

Annoyed, Anders waved his hand at Fenris. “Please, you sound like Justice. I know there’s something weird about the room, but this whole place feels creepy. It’s old building filled with skeletons. It’s going to be creepy” He slipped on his bag and headed for the exit.

He didn't take no more than four steps when the green wisp died out. Fenris blinked several times to adjust to the sudden darkness. Unease crept through him; why did the spell go out? He felt something brush against his ankles. He stumbled backward, almost toppling over the chest.

“Mage? Anders?” Fenris called out when he gained his balance.

“Fen-Fenris?” Anders called out. Terror and hopelessness replaced the cheerfulness in his voice.

Regardless how he felt about the fool, Fenris didn't want Anders to suffer from another panic attack today. Fenris replied by lighting up his brands. He spotted Anders’s shaking form not too far from where he stood. Anders spun about to the new light source and rushed to Fenris’s side. He didn’t cling to the elf for life support as Fenris thought he would. Instead, he wrapped his arms around himself and rocked on his heels. “I want to leave now.”

Fenris nodded and grabbed Anders’s arm and went for the exit.

Or where the exit should be.

Fenris ran forward, dragging the quivering mage behind, to the now solid wall. He touched the spot he knew the empty door-frame was seconds ago. When metal met stone, Fenris took a step back. “We’re trapped.” He whispered. His mind went to the small hole where he waited for his master to set him. His kind, caring master who punished Fenris because Fenris had been a bad slave. If he just be a good slave, Master wouldn't have to hurt him. If he had been a good slave, he wouldn’t be stuck here, trapped with no food, no water. No air.

He couldn't breathe. He choked, and gasped. His lungs hurt, his chest felt tight. Too tight. He chest was caving in. He gripped his head and squeezed his eyes shut. His brands flickered on and off. He was sinking and no one would come for him.

A shaky hand reached out from the darkness and grabbed Fenris’s shoulder from behind. “Fenris, my beautiful pet, I came to retrieve you.”

Fenris shuddered and turned to see Danarius loomed over him taller than before. He took a steady breath, tried to compose himself for his master. Danarius grinned. Fenris cocked his head to the side and frowned. There was something off. The smile was kind and genuine, so full for concern. Concern for him, for a slave. The smile caused his amber eyes to crinkle at the edges. Amber, not silver.

“Anders?” Fenris asked hesitantly. He squinted and Anders replaced Danarius.

Anders nodded. “That’s right, it’s okay. Just breathe.” He pulled Fenris into gentle hug, and Fenris accepted the comfort. He buried his face into the mage’s chest as he tried to calm himself down. Anders stroked Fenris’s hair. He didn’t know who shook more, him or Anders. “Fenris, I think I know another way out of here.” Anders spoke quietly and quickly. “We’re surrounded by weak Fear Demons controlled by a very powerful and ancient Desire Demon. She drained my mana to snuff Justice out, but your brands are slowly giving him strength. Justice’s presence, weaken as it is, is the only thing keeping the demons from swarming us. If we can get out of this room and put more distance between us and them, we can kill them. The question is, you do you trust me?”

 Fenris didn’t think about his answer. He stared directly into the mage’s eyes. “Barely.”

“That’s good enough for me.” Anders grabbed Fenris’s hand and bolted to the pool of water. Fenris wanted to stop the mage. He couldn’t swim. He carried a heavy sword on his back. He’d drown them both. But he didn’t, against his better judgment. Fenris wanted out.

In the corners of Fenris’s eyes, he saw the shadows move toward them. Out-stretched claws and sharp teeth prickled at his mind, but he would not give into fear. Anders paused, pulled his staff off his back and summoned a circle of ice, freezing the demons in place. He took off again, and didn’t stop when they reached the water.

The last thing Fenris heard before he fell into the cold depths of the water, was the laughter of a woman.

As they plunged into the abyss, the name Varania sprung to his mind.

\---

Fenris came back to the waking world by Anders swearing.

“Andraste’s ass! Of all the blighted things to happen right now at this moment!” Fenris blinked a few times and slowly sat up. He grimaced, his head throbbed with a dull ache. He put his hand to the side of his head and tried to massage the headache away.

“Oh, you’re awake!” Fenris lifted his head slightly. Sat across from, was Anders. In his lap were the busted remains of his staff. Anders got up, letting broken weapon to drop with a clatter. “How’s your head? You bumped it on a rock just before I could throw shield on us. I made sure it wasn’t bleeding, but you make a violent point on not using magic on you when you can’t consent.” He sat down next to Fenris, and crossed his legs. He didn’t match the elf’s gaze, instead he eyed the head wound with concern.

Fenris took a deep breath. “You can heal it. The headache will hinder us if you don’t” Anders nodded and went to work. The effect of the mage’s healing magic was quick, the dull pain disappeared. “What happened to your staff.”

“Well, I didn’t know how far the drop would be and it was either you or a fancy stick. So, I let my staff go.”

Fenris thought the mage’s words over. Anders sacrificed one of his few possessions for him. He looked down at his hands and muttered, “thank you.”

Anders shrugged. “Don’t thank me. I’m not about to let a friend, a broody, violent friend who I don’t like, but a friend nonetheless to die.”

The teasing tone coupled with the words made Fenris snort. He glanced up at the ceiling. “And what of the demons?” He didn’t look around, not to interrupt the mage’s healing, but from where he sat he could see the room they were was divided by zigzag walls made up by junk.

“The demons didn’t follow. I think the Desire Demon is toying with us. She’s down here somewhere waiting, along with her band of Fear Demons. She’s powerful, Fenris,” He turned at his name. There was a hint of blue in Anders’s eyes. “Demons don’t command others of their kind unless they’re strong. We have to kill her. It’s the Just thing to do.” The mage’s voice dropped several octaves and echoed. For a split second, Justice was in control, but he left when he made his point.

Fenris hummed in agreement. “Where are we, and how did you this place was here?” He asked.

“Oh!” Anders dropped his hands to his lap after he was done. He fidgeted with his fingers thinking of the right answer. “Well, Justice drudged up some old memories of this place. Surana told one of us, or both us I can’t tell, that there had been the werewolf lair was hidden under a pool of water and I thought that maybe we’d escape that way, but. I guess I was wrong. I mean, if Surana had been here, then all these demons would be dead. I mean he killed all the werewolves, why not the demons?” Anders grew more distressed the more he talked. “Maker, if I’d just listened to you, or Justice we wouldn’t be in this mess. I’m so blighted stupid.” He hit his head hard enough that it made Fenris winced.

Fenris grabbed Anders’s wrist and forced back into the man’s lap. “Don’t do that. Wallowing in self-pity won’t help us. You got us out of the situation and you found our way back to our own time, focus on that.” Anders nodded, but didn’t look at Fenris. He stood up and offered his hand. When Fenris accepted it, he pulled the elf up. “Where’s my sword?”

Anders pointed, “behind you. It fell off your back during the fall. There’s no damage, I think. Justice checked it, so you can ask him when he takes over.”

Fenris examined his sword and saw nothing wrong it; he hoisted onto his back. “Why would the spirit need to take charge. You’ve fought demons before.”

“I don’t have a staff anymore.” Anders gestured to his broken weapon. “If I go around fleeing fire bombs at demons without one, I could blow us up. I can’t fight demons with my bare fists, Justice can. We’d be better off if we can find him a sword and shield.” Fenris lifted an eyebrow. “He’s a warrior spirit. He would feel more comfortable if I carried a big sword like you and wore heavy armor. As it were, I can’t even lift the sodding thing in a dress, let alone wear dragonbone while doing so.”

“Fine, let the spirit out. We need to get back to the others, the sooner the better.”

Anders closed his eyes and when he opened them again, Fenris was staring at Justice. He almost wanted to laugh. Anders’s new feminine outfit made the spirit less intimidating, but Fenris couldn’t forget that just a few hours ago, the spirit tore through a battalion of Templars. “We must not linger in this place. Anders did not inform you, but there is another force stronger than the Demon of Desire.”

That was concerning. “Stronger how?”

Justice began to pace back and forth. “I cannot explain the sensation I get when I feel another from the Fade to a mortal. Not even a mage could understand, but I’ll do my best.” He stopped and fixated Fenris with a hard stare. “This creature is far from where we stand, and yet I can sense its presence. The forest is its domain, but this part of the ruins is where it resides, thus it is strongest here. Desire is in control of the demons, but she bows down to the Forest Spirit.”

“Should we kill this Forest Spirit as well?”

“…No. We should avoid it at all costs. The spirit is angry and vengeful, and those negative emotions have fueled its power. We would perish if cross paths with the Forest Spirit.” Justice answered.

If finding out about the spirit was more powerful than the Desire Demon concerned Fenris, knowing that Justice didn’t even want to fight worried the elf even more. Before they moved on, however, Fenris had one more question to ask. “What’s the difference between an angry spirit and a demon?”

Justice’s mouth pressed into a thin line and his brows creased. He wondered if he crossed the line with that question, but the spirit’s features soften. “I am not sure of that answer. I’ve been asking myself that question for many years now.” With that he walked off, singling the conversation was over. Fenris followed with no further comments. They walked through narrow the passageways for short time, Justice leading the way.

They went for a few moments of silence before Justice came to a sudden halt. He held out his arm for Fenris to stop. “What’s wrong?” Fenris’s eyes darted across the room and reached to draw his sword out.

“Stay your hand, elf.” Justice bent down and Fenris’s eyes followed. There were several skeletons on the floor. Some were werewolves, others were more humanoid. Fenris watched as the spirit untie a long sword off one of the dead’s belt. He stood up and unsheathe the sword in one fluid motion. Fenris took a step back to give Justice room to swing the sword. The spirit as he tested his new weapon. “It is light and slightly unbalanced.” He put the sheath the on the ground and sliced his palm to test the blade. “Odd that the blade is still sharp despite being uncared for. Why do random weapons still function while others become rusted from old age?” Justice stared at Fenris as if he had such answers.

“You shouldn’t question your luck, spirit. You found a decent sword, do not jinx it.”

Alarmed, Justice asked, “Why would I jinx my sword?”

Fenris closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “It is a figure of speech.” He looked around the room and spotted a shield amongst the skeletons. “The mage mentioned you can fight with a sword and shield.”

Justice sheathed the sword and then tied it to his belt. It dragged the belt further down the mage’s bony hips. He grabbed the medium sized shield and hooked it to his arm. “I miss the familiar weight of a shield.” Justice met Fenris gaze again. “I am for mage’s rights, but I do not like fighting with Anders’s magic. It is not as easily controlled like a blade or an ax.” He smiled slightly. It was almost cute but Fenris didn’t find Anders nor Justice cute. Yet. Fenris frowned.

Justice jerked his head to the side, “Come. I have found a weapon. Let’s slay the Desire Demon and return to the others.” They took off down another hallway.

The spirit was not what Fenris expected. Justice only took over sparely over the years. While most times were in the heat of the battle, there were few moments that stood out to Fenris. There was their initial meeting when Fenris was introduced to Anders in the Hanged Man. In hindsight, shoving his hand through Anders chest upon finding out the mage hosted a spirit had been had been the main reason why they didn’t get along now. There was of course that terrible business with the mage girl and the spirit had violently lashed out at everyone in sight. Again, after learning what Anders had went through at the hands of Templars, Fenris understood why Justice nearly killed her. Then there was this trip to the future. It terrified Fenris to know he would be a relationship with a possessed mage and the creature possessing said mage, but he can at least accept he was wrong about Justice being a demon. He doubted a demon would think pets were slaves and would be impose to owning one.

“You are very quiet.” Justice broke Fenris’s thoughts. The spirit had slowed down to walk next to the elf.

“I apologize I don’t fill the air with inane prattle like your host.” Fenris snarked.

“There is no need for apologies. Yes, Anders enjoys to talk. He spent a long time in solitary and talking to himself became a habit.” Fenris’s sarcasm flew over the spirit’s head. “However, he can be quite taxing. When we were with the Wardens, the only person who did not have an issue with Anders need to fill the silence was our Commander. I understand now too, but I find it…nice to have some peace and quiet.”

Fenris snorted. “I bet you would considering you have to live with him. Or inside him, if you will. How long was he in solitary?” He added. Surely it couldn’t have been a few weeks. Anders was still sane. Sort of. Though it didn’t matter how long in his opinion. Fenris had suffered for a month and few weeks one year in solitary and that had been enough to do semi-permanent damage. He couldn’t stand total darkness, but sunlight hurt his eyes. He had trouble sleeping and eating. He heard and saw things he knew weren’t real. He recognized some of the signs in Anders years ago. The mage would have been crazy regardless, in Fenris’s opinion. If last night’s manic episode meant anything, Anders’s fragile mental state ran deeper than solitary.

“Why do you wish to know?” Justice gave Fenris a judgmental glare. “Do you plan to mock his suffering?”

“I wouldn’t mock what he’s been through, spirit. He and I have similar experiences, solitary has been just one of them.”

“A year.” Justice answered after a moment of silence.

Fenris halted and nearly tripped over a broken tile. Justice grabbed Fenris’s arm tightly to keep him from falling over. “I apologize, I could have sworn you said a year.” He stuttered out. Surely the spirit was mistaken. There was no way someone could survive that long.

“I did not stutter, mortal. He spent an entire year in a dark cell. His only company were Templars, those horrid creatures call deepcrawlers, and an imaginary cat.” Justice cocked his head to the side, “do not tell him the cat had not been real. Our Commander once suggested as such. The two of them came from the same Circle and yet he had never seen or heard of any cat. Anders reacted rather poorly and our Commander had to lie to him to make him well again.”

Fenris slowly nodded. He realized that he would have to take Justice’s word, but he believed the spirit was telling the truth. Even though he wished the spirit wasn’t. “I won’t even remember this conversation.” Even if he will remember, he wouldn’t tell the mage anyway. He didn’t like the mage, but he wasn’t that cruel. It was something Hadriana would do and the Void Fenris would be anything like that bitch.

“This is true.” Justice let go his arm. “This trip to the future must be hard for you. To know you will lose your memories again through magic.” Justice was perceptive when he needed to be. “It angers me to see magic misused.”

“It does,” Fenris asked skeptically.

Justice nodded solemnly. “All injustices anger me. I was formed in the Fade after a poor fisherman’s wife had been enslaved by magic. I fight for mage rights, but my original cause had been to hunt down those who abuse magic.”

Fenris shuffled his feet, uncomfortable that all his assumptions have been proven wrong. He wanted to change the subject. “I thank you for your concern, but I can’t dwell on my impending memory loss now.”

“No, you cannot.” Justice’s voice was firm. “We will be attacked by Demons of Fear and an Arcane Horror when we enter the next room.” Fenris hadn’t realized they had come one end of hallway.

Fenris tilted his head up at the spirit. “So, we have been standing out here talking while demons are ready to rip us apart?”

“We were having a conversation, it would have been rude of me to interrupt the flow to talk about something else.” Justice eyed the door before them. Fenris shook his head at the spirit’s bizarre form of manners.

“I believe they set a trap for us. I attend to give them what they want.” Justice took several steps back, drew his sword and raised his shield to cover most of his body. Fenris saw what the mad spirit was going to do and darted out of the way. Justice ran at the door and slammed into it, knocking it down with a bang. Justice stumbled, but straightened himself up before he could fall. Fenris rushed in after him and with quick glance, he took in the scene. The room was large, but cramped. There were several pillars holding the ceiling up. There, the Fear Demons floated in and out of the shadows. In the middle, stood the Arcane Horror.

Justice didn’t hesitate. He rushed in, sword raised, ready to fight. The demons swarmed him, but he ignored them in favor for the Arcane Horror. He dodged ice blasts, threw off a crushing prison and bashed his shield once, twice, and a third time into the Fade creature.

While the spirit could kill several unsuspected, drunk Templars, he couldn’t fight several, well-prepared demons at once. Fenris let out a roar and jumped into the fray. The taunt worked; the demons changed course and went after the elf instead. Briefly, there were flashes of Danarius on the battlefield, but he wasn’t fooled this time. Fenris lit his brands for better clarity and saw passed the demons’ mind games. He swung his sword in sweeping arches, slicing his foes in half. They fell one after another. The Arcane Horror fell after a burst of energy Justice summoned. If Fenris had time to stop and muse, he’d liken it to a Templar’s smite.

One Fear Demon floated to close to one of the tiles on the floor. The slight pressure set off a fiery trap. Alarmed, Fenris looked for more tiles that were darker in color. There was a pattern “Kaffas!” Fenris swore and did his best to dodge the traps, unsure which would go off. More and more, the demons fell. Either by Fenris’s sword, Justice’s smites, or simply being knocked onto the traps. And soon, the were no more.

Fenris leaned against a pillar to catch his breath. Out their friends, he had done most of the fighting against the Templars earlier other than Justice. Between that and the lack of sleep from last night, killing a small horde of demons took its toll on his body.

“Do you need healing?” Fenris snapped upright, turned to see Anders standing behind him. There was something humorous about a half-starved mage in women’s dress armed with a heavy shield and long sword. Fenris didn’t bother to hide his amusement. Anders’s eyes narrowed. “What?”

“You look ridiculous.”

“Maker’s breath, why do I even bother? Do you need healing or not? If you don’t then I’m going let Justice take over again; the fight isn’t over. We still have that Desire Demon to contend with.” Anders turned to look at the next hallway and his expression soured, “I think we might be force to face off with that Forest Spirit.”

“I’m fine, mage. I just need a stamina potion. You should give control over to the spirit; your arms looked like they will snap.” A bit harsh, but it was true. Anders had muscles, half-starved that he was, but as the mage pointed out he needed Justice’s boost of strength.

Anders took the comment in stride, “Maker, tell me about it. It doesn’t help that it feels like the blighted bastard used my body as a battery ram.” The mage awkwardly sheathed the sword and then pulled out a yellow potion from one of his pouches and tossed it at Fenris, who caught it easily.

“He did. He knocked down the door.” He downed the potion in one go.

“Of course, he did. Because why not. It’s not like—oh shit.” Anders’s eyes snapped to the entrance way and widen. Fenris followed his gaze and spotted a red-headed woman.

She was an elf, with pale skin, dark makeup and she wore dirty rags. She was young. Very young, possibly Bethany Hawke’s age when he had last saw her. The elven woman’s hair was in shambles and she so dirty. He knew her, but he couldn’t place her. She stumbled into the room her arms reaching for Fenris. “Leto.” Fenris’s breath hitched at the name. Where had he heard that name before?

Fenris took several steps toward this woman, but a strong hand gripped and stopped him in his tracks. He looked over his shoulder to see Justice had returned once more. “I do not know who this woman is to you, but she is nothing more than an illusion.”

“Don’t listen to him,” the woman begged. Fenris’s heart clenched. He examined her again, and he knew who she was. Years ago, he had met this woman on the streets of Minrathous. She had run up to him while he was running errands for his master. She had claimed they knew each other, she was his family. He remembered thinking how terrible that the woman didn’t have her own Magister to take care of her. He taken her to Danarius and begged his master to care of her. He hadn’t seen her since. Not until now. “Please, Leto, I can give you what you want. Just come with me, please, I need you.” Fenris slowly nodded. Yes, this woman had the answers he sought after. Held his memories. She needed him just as much he needed her.

“No!” Justice’s voice echoed in the hallow room. He moved in front of Fenris, blocking his view of the woman. “Do not listen to her lies, Fenris! She is trying to tempt you. Look pass her deceit and see her for what truly is.” The spirit grabbed his elf and pulled him forward, but closer to his body. Fenris narrowed his eyes at the elven woman.

Her sadden, yet hopeful expression turned annoyed. She crossed her arms and tutted. “I had a feeling I couldn’t ensnare him. Too much Pride.” Her voice grew smoother, darker. Her features were sharper, crueler. Fenris snarled and went for his sword. The elven woman this demon bitch impersonated had been dead for many years now. He had led her to her death when he dragged the poor woman in front of Danarius in hopes the Magister would be kind and enslave her. And the demon had the audacity to play on his hope that she lived.

“I’m going to kill you.”

The demon was unimpressed. “You are nothing more than a child to me, mortal. The only thing I want from you is the substance that lives within your skin. You, however, dear brother of mine,” she turned a predatory grin at Justice, “have a very interesting host.”

“ _You will not have him!_ ” The cracks on Anders’s skin grew brighter, hotter. He drew his sword and paced around like a hunter cat waiting for the right moment to pounce.

“Can I not?” She smirked. “You guard his mind, and yet his wants cry out to me.” She strutted forward, so foreign to the woman’s body. Her form shifted and twisted into that of a man’s. Into Hawke’s. “He’s a creature who yearns for what he can’t have, to the point of Envy.” Her voice mimicked Hawke’s perfectly. “I know you disapprove of his attraction for this mortal. He has ached for the man for three years. He’s even pleasured himself to fantasies about this Garrett Hawke. Let me take care of your Anders, I can give him what he truly longs for.”

Fenris learned far too much about the mage today. About almost everything he knew about the mage now was in a category of too much information.  

“But he wants more than that.” She changed again, and Hawke was replaced by an older man, with gray hair and beard. He wore wizarding robes and there, on the man’s forehead, was the familiar Tranquil sunburst. Fenris’s mouth went dry. He hadn’t been there, but Fenris knew that had been Anders’s dead lover. “I can give him back what he lost.”

“You can only give him empty of dreams. He has no need of you. The elf has saw passed your pathetic temptations. You have failed.” Justice growled, his voice dropped several octaves. The air grew colder, heavier. A fog appeared at their feet. The sound of lightening cracking around them Fenris took several steps back from them both, panic swelled up inside him. This was fight was beyond his skills. These were two ancient beings with powers he couldn’t comprehend.

The sick smile didn’t belong on a Tranquil’s face. The demon moved closer and she began a drawn-out dance with the spirit. They circled each other. The demon came closer and closer to Fenris; he darted away from her and placed himself behind Justice. Her grin grew wider. “The mortals are not the only ones who have desires, brother” She whispered.

“You lie!” Justice yelled. “I am no demon! We are no kin!”

“But we are family.” Her voice changed first. It turned from soft and sweet to flirty and sarcastic. Gone was the gray-haired Tranquil, in his place was Anders. He wore a tattered magister’s robe, with dark gray feathers on his shoulders. All of his golden hair was perfectly combed back into a playful ponytail. From where Fenris stood, he could see a gold earring in the mage’s right ear. This had been the mage before he merged with the spirit, Fenris thought.

The demon flashed Justice Anders’s cocky grin and spirit stumbled backward as if he had been struck hard across the face.

The demon stood straighter, crossed her arms and cocked her hips to the side like Anders would. “You have been in the mortal realm for far too long, Love. You want your host just like how he wants that mortal, Hawke. Do not deny yourself from what you want.” Justice’s whole body shuddered. The light he naturally gave off dulled and withered.

Fenris ignored his better judgement and ran to Justice’s side. “Justice, ignore the bitch!” The spirit turned at his name. To Fenris’s shock, wet streaks trailed from the spirit’s eyes. Justice’s face contorted in agony, as if her words physically pained him. They rang true, on some level. Fenris didn’t know what it meant for a spirit to have desires, but that didn’t stop him from trying to help Justice. “The demon can’t offer you anything. She’s toying with your emotions for Anders, lying to you about their nature.”

“But she speaks the truth.” He sounded so utterly broken. “I have developed feelings of Desire for Anders. I have given into Rage for Anders. I have twisted into a selfish creature of Vengeance. You have said it yourself, elf, I am not good for him. I make his pain worse.” His voice cracked, but not from the power of the Fade, but out of anguish.

Fenris grabbed Justice on the arms as the spirit had done minutes ago. “I was wrong. She. Is. Wrong. You have made mistakes, we all make mistakes. And that is okay. Good even. A demon tries to be perfect on the surface for their victims. You grow and learn and change for your host. You do it to make him happy, not yourself. You are no kin of hers. You are a Spirit of Justice and your love for Anders is not evil. That is what she is lying about and you have no need for her lies.”

Justice looked down for a moment, and raised his head back up, a glare firmly plastered on his face. He turned to face the object of his hate and she withered away. Fenris slowly walked backwards away from the spirit. He smirked and knew the Desire Demon was done for.

“Fine then, brother,” her voice returned to normal and the hideous sneer didn’t look good on the mage’s features. “You do not want him, but there is another.” This was her last trick, Fenris thought. All her power was an illusion. She morphed once more into an elven woman. Her skin was darker, a shade more so than Isabela’s. Her hair was woven into thick braids, pulled back by a purple scarf. Her white dress was simple, made for a warmer climate. A smug smile blossomed across the pretty woman’s face. “This is the one you truly want, brother.” She held out her arms, daring the spirit to attack at her. Her voice became shrill not matching the woman’s form she had stolen. “She cried for retribution, for Justice, but you never came for her. _You died a free man, **while she died in shackles!**_ ”

**_“YOU DARE!”_ **

With a thunderous roar that shook the room, Justice charged at the demon. She dropped her illusion and put all her energy into magic blasts. Ice shards, mind blasts, a sleeping spell. They did nothing to slow him down. She tried to dodge, but he slammed his shield into, knocking her down. He stood over her, as he did when he killed the female Templar, hours ago. Justice shoved his sword through the demon’s chest and dropped another smite on top of her.

As Desire Demons do when they died, she floated up into the air, only to collapse and disappeared back into the Fade.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next week, we get to see the return of the Lady of the Forest. Hopefully, she's not as angry as Justice think she is. 
> 
> i want to stop and again to say thank you for everyone who has supported this fic. It means a lot.


	9. And if I was Wrong

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I split up this chapter from the next one because putting them together didn't flow well.

When the vengeful scream was ripped from Justice’s throat, Fenris felt the Veil torn asunder. The walls trembled, the ground shook, and the ceiling cracked and groaned. Fog and lightening filled the air. His brands lit without his consent and burned his skin. He collapsed to the floor and held his middle. He gritted his teeth to bare through the pain. There was a terrible heat, one that came for Rage Demons. The stone walls were an oven, and he was being baked alive. He couldn’t hear the fight, nor did he watch. He felt each spell, every Fade blast that was cast or summoned. He felt it all in his veins, in his lyrium. Justice’s, or Vengeance’s wrath, burned the air. Burned his skin. Burned his lungs. The spirit’s fury was all consuming and too much for Fenris.

And then it was over.

Vengeance or Justice, or whatever the spirit was, slayed the Desire Demon. Fenris didn’t need to see it to know the demon-bitch was dead. The room stopped shaking. The lightening stopped buzzing. But it was still hot, too hot.  Fenris panted and shuddered. With unsteady heads, the elf pushed himself upward. He almost toppled over, but he caught himself on one of the pillars. He slowly stood and didn’t let go until he was stable.

Finally, he looked to Justice. He stood stock still, breathing hard. The cracks on Anders’s body was not the bright blue Fenris came to associate with the spirit. They were dark and purple, almost black. Smoke bellowed from the cracks and swirled about them. Even at a distance, he felt the heat coming from Justice.

Fenris felt a spike of terror that Anders and Justice were on the verge of turning into a true abomination, but only for a moment. The thought was pushed aside once he remembered that they were in the future and he knew Anders _and_ Justice’s fate. Still, Fenris watched the Justice with apprehension. A moment ago, the spirit feared his desires for Anders had twisted him into Vengeance and nearly gave up. The second the demon turned into the elven woman, the spirit snapped. It was different than what happened hours ago with the Templars or the incident with the mage girl. Fenris’s brow furrowed as he wondered who the woman could be.

The demon claimed the woman had died in shackles. Died a slave. She said Justice died a free man, but that made no sense to Fenris, Justice was a spirit. A creature of the Fade; shaped by the thoughts and memories of mortals and—

_“…I was formed in the Fade after a poor fisherman’s wife had been enslaved by magic…”_

“Maker,” Fenris let out in a hushed breath. Justice was the memory of the fisherman, or even had been the fisherman himself. It sounded impossible, but what did he know of spirits or demons? Did Merrill not claim spirits and demons were complex as mortals? Was it because they had been mortals?

Fenris eyed the spirit before he cautiously walked up to Justice. He made sure his footsteps were loud enough for the spirit to hear, but quiet enough to not startle him either. As he got closer, the smoke simmered out and the heat disappeared. His light returned to blue. Justice seemed to even deflate as well. Fenris wondered if it was his markings that caused the spirit to calm down.

Tentative in his actions, Fenris reached out and placed a hand on Justice’s shoulder. He tensed and glanced over his shoulder. He gave Fenris a withering look.

He silently gulped, unsure if he should ask, but concern and curiosity won out. “Who was that woman?”

Justice turned to face the elf. He was crying again, and Fenris felt guilt for asking. Yet, the spirit answered. “Her name had been Nadia.” The spirit said her name in the same heartbroken tone he used earlier when he talked of his guilt. “She had a seer from Rivain, the only in ou-her village. There were marches. Exalted Marches. One had been led by Tevinter. They marched on our—no not mine!—her country.” He struggled with his words as if he couldn’t physically bring himself to admit he had once been a mortal.

“Do not speak about it, spirit.” Fenris said softly, but Justice shook his head.

“No one knows. I have kept it hidden, there are not many spirits like myself. Who were mortal. I did not…recall my life before I was made in the Fade, not until I was forced across the Veil. Flashes at first then Anders and I merged…and I remembered,” Justice shuddered and looked away from Fenris. “I cannot speak more of my old life. Of her. I cannot!”

Fenris went to say he understood that he didn’t need to continue, but the spirit receded back into Anders’s mind and the mage fell backward. He caught the limp form easily. The sword and shield, however fell with an echoing clang.

“Fasta vass,” Fenris muttered under his breath. He carried the mage over to one of the pillars in the room, while avoiding any leftover traps He slumped against the column and slid to the floor. He shifted Anders in his arms so the mage could fit comfortably on his lap. He needed to rest for second, before moving again. Fenris watched the other man. Anders was burning up, but the heat disappeared rapidly. He wouldn’t admit to it out loud, but he felt rather proud the spirit came back from the edge without the help of Anders. He, like the others, assumed the mage was losing himself to Justice. Even Anders worried what has become of his friend. Absently, Fenris brushed strands of hair out of the mage’s face. He was careful not scratch Anders. He didn’t know how he felt to be so wrong about the spirit. Being wrong about Anders he could accept; the mage was a man. But Justice? The Fade creature that possessed the man?

“When we get back to our own time, neither of us won’t remember what happened,” he whispered. “But I was wrong about both of you. I want you to know that, even if I can’t tell Anders. ” Fenris looked to the other end of the hall where massive doors were open wide for them. It wasn’t the entrance they used to barge through. “You said the spirit that is up ahead is just angry, but it isn’t a demon.” He looked back down and felt the tug on his brands. The spirit listened to him, but did come up to the surface. Too exhausted? “You said we would perish if we cross paths with it, but we know we will survive this.” He gently pushed the mage off him.  He stood up and readjusted his sword. “I’m going to confront the Forest Spirit. I had been wrong about you, assumed before I gotten to know either of you. I will not make that mistake again.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here are two pieces of fenders art I've drawn for more bonus content.  
> http://the-goat-bazaar-of-art.tumblr.com/post/165069982759/more-fenders-art-i-think-i-over-exaggerated-the  
> http://the-goat-bazaar-of-art.tumblr.com/post/165101147919/justiceanders-our-tiny-grumpy-boyfriend-needs-a


	10. Ruins Laid to Rest

Fenris stood in front the massive doors to where the Forest Spirit resided in.

He felt it’s presence from out here. It weighed down on him like a burden. Justice was wrong. This creature felt like misery and sorrow, not the rage the spirit described.

The Forest Spirit’s emotions planted itself deep in his lyrium, rooting there and forcing him to feel it’s agony. He closed his eyes to compose himself. He rarely felt sadness; he didn’t allow anything but anger.

His mind supplied an image of the elven woman with red hair, dirty clothes, and bags under his eyes. _Varania_. The name came to him in a whisper. He shook his head and pushed her out of his mind. For now, at least. When this was all done, he will ask his future self if this woman meant anything to him. Surely being married to a healer would have benefits? Possibly help with memory loss perhaps?

Fenris glanced back over his shoulder where he left the mage and spirit. He couldn’t see them. Not when the doors closed behind him when he left the Desire Demon’s lair and he walked along another long hallway. He found more werewolf skeletons, piles and piles of them

It was odd that he felt worried for leaving Anders and Justice, while logically he knew they were safe and sound. 

He stalled long enough.

He turned back around and pushed open the doors.

The room was exactly what a Forest Spirit’s domain would look like. Tall trees that reached the ceiling, thick vines crawled up the walls, and roots and flowers broke through the ruin’s floor. Except everything was gray and dead.

Fenris stepped inside to get a better look. Part of the wall on his left was covered in more vines than the others. The room was well lit, but the shadows moved and twisted about unnaturally. He felt he was being watched.

“I know you are there, spirit, show yourself.” Fenris called out. For a moment, there was no reply. As the seconds drifted by, he began to fidget. He felt ridiculous. And rude. “I apologize, I do not intend to disturb you longer than need be. My…friend and I are stuck down here. We acquire your aide.”

More silence followed, then, “Did the Dalish sent you?” It was a woman’s voice. Melancholy and resigned. She sounded as if she stood right next to him, but one glance around told him otherwise.

Slowly, he answered, “No, I was not.”

“I do not trust you,” she said after a moment. 

Fenris stepped forward to explain further. “There are no Dalish elves in the forest. Humans, known as Templars, came through and slaughtered them. They left their mages’ bodies as a warning to other magic users.”

The spirit didn’t respond right away. “I see. Then you are not here on behalf of Zathrian?”

Fenris looked among the dead trees to see who he was talking to and spotted a figure hidden behind an oak far from him. The figure was that of woman “Step out of the shadows, I am not here to harm you.”

The spirit hesitated, then she disappeared. He stared at the spot she was just at, but spun when he heard wood cracking.

His breath hitched.

The spirit reappeared and stepped out of one of the trees. She was beyond words. Unlike the Desire Demon, The Forest Spirit ethereal beauty wasn’t artificial. With her dark hair and eyes, and the tree branches crawling up her ashen green skin, she was stunning.

And then there were her ample bosom and long legs. And, oh, did he love long legs.

Fenris turned his head, his face flushed. He tried thinking of something, anything else, but the curve of her body reminded him of Isabela and her casualness to being so exposed was like Anders. Thinking about either or naked didn’t help his growing problem.

Distracted, he hadn’t noticed the spirit moved to stand right next to him. “Why did you come here?”

Fenris took a step back, but luckily the spirit didn’t seem offended. He looked in the eyes. Close up, he realized they weren’t just dark. They were completely black, even the whites. Normally, he would balk and attack, but it hadn’t been a normal two days. The thought of harming the spirit unsettled him.

He took a moment to compose himself before he answered. “As I said earlier, my lady, my friend and I are stuck down here. We ran into trouble; I assume you are aware of the fight that happened?”

A small smile blossomed on the spirit’s face. “My Lady? I have not been addressed as such for some time.” Then her face fell to concern. “You speak of the fight between Longing and Righteous?” Fenris nodded, he suspected these were other names for Desire and Justice.

She continued, “yes, I felt their confrontation. I still do. Righteous’s anger has sent tremors throughout these ruins. I have warded myself, and I suppose you and your friend, from the spirits that crossed the Veil. They infest the upper floors.”

Fenris’s eyes flickered upward toward the ceiling, worried for the others. He returned his gaze back at the spirit. “We aren’t alone, my friend and I.”

“Your friend in especially.” She said with a hint of humor.

“Yes, he isn’t alone.” He smiled. “But we have others with us. They are on the other floors and the Desire Demon, or Longing as you called her, had trapped us down here. Justice had claimed you were angry and powerful, however, I decided to speak to you myself.”

She frowned. She began to walk back and forth. Her movements were like a leaf drifting in the wind. “He senses that I have been wrong in the past, but all he can sense is anger because that is what he knows. He is frightened to feel anything else, less he turns.” She stopped walking and lifted her hand. She moved like she would touch his cheek, but instead she hovered. He eyed her wearily, unsure what the spirit wanted. There is little emotion on her face, “you have the Song of the Beyond embedded in your skin. It sings to me, as much as I sing to you.”

He looked down at his feet, “my lyrium.”

She dropped her hand. “You know that I am not angry.” She walked away from him, toward the wall that was heavily covered in tree branches. His gaze drifted back up and watched her drift further away

“I barricaded myself years ago, to protect myself from a Dalish Keeper.” She ran a hand over the branches. “I allowed Longing and the Terror spirits to haunt this place for my protection.”

He thought for a moment, his hand rubbing his chin. “This Zathrian you mentioned before, is he the Keeper you speak of?”

She looked over her shoulder, “yes. He and I connected. Not like your friend and his spirit, it is similar, however.”

Fenris walked up next to her. “How are you connected?”

She sighed, if spirits could sigh without a human host. “He summoned and then bounded me to a body of a wolf, through that binding, we were forever linked. He created a curse that would turn the humans into monsters.”

“Why would he do such a thing?” A part of Fenris knew the answer: why did any mage do anything?

“Centuries ago, humans attacked his children. His son had been murdered, his daughter raped and beaten. She ended her life when she found out she was pregnant. Zathrian sought retribution.”

Fenris’s eyes widen, but then narrowed. “He had every right to do so.”

She lifted an eyebrow at him. “Even though he can do magic?”

He was taken aback by the question. “I don’t see why that would matter.”

The spirit gave him a knowing look. “Yes, why would it matter if he was mage? He targeted innocent people who did nothing to his children. Humans, if they had known, would have been sickened and outraged by the crimes. Yet, he lashed out at them. His crime is still the same regardless no matter long it lasted.”

“…I think I see your point, spirit.” Fenris whispered under his breath.  

She nodded, but didn’t chastise him further. “He is far away from here, yet I can still sense his thoughts. He has lived for so long with his hate, chained by its burden. He wishes it to end.” She grabbed his wrist suddenly and placed his hand over her chest. “So, do I.”

Fenris looked from his hand, to her face. “You want me to kill you?”

“He tried killing me once. He sent a young man, a child really, after me. His name was Alim Surana. He was filled with hurt and anger just like you. He was beaten and collared by humans, just as you have. And he knew Zathrian's tale as if he had lived it, just like you. Because of his hate, he chose to not end the curse when he could have.  Zathrian lied. He told Surana that I could be killed and the curse that effected humans wouldn't effect the Dalish. And it is true, Surana did save the Dalish, but I cannot die. Not while he lives and the same goes for him. The longer I live, the longer he cannot return to his children.”

“What of the barrier you created?” He gestured to the wall, “will it still stand when you die? And what of the forest? Or the animals? Or that bizarre rhyming tree? You are their spirit. What will become of this place when you die?”

She smiled. “The barrier will lift and you can return to your friend upstairs. The forest will morn my loss, but The Grand Oak Tree will take my place and do better than I have.” She looked passed him and at the doors he came through, “my brother suffers, and therefore your friend, Anders, suffers. I have a gift for them, will you pass it on?”

“I will.” He answered.

Fenris lit his brands and phased his hand through her chest, making the spirit gasp. He grabbed her heart. It was smooth and hard like an acorn, but it pulsed as if she was a mortal. He squeezed. She closed her eyes and shattered into leaves and flowers. They flurried about him in swirl before they disappeared.

And all that remained of the Lady of the Forest was a mage's staff.

The very same staff the older Anders carried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> note, if anyone is interested, I am currently writing Justice's backstory. It is the sixth fic in the series. Please read the note in the first chapter before reading.


	11. A Reunion of Sorts

Fenris’s ears twitched. To his left, the wooden barrier cracked and snapped like dried sticks. He watched it disappear slower than the Forest Spirit.

But that wasn’t the only noise that was being made.

“What are ye doin’, man? It’s a bunch of wee little trees; ye can’t be pickin’ them like a normal door.” It was Sebastian. His Starkhaven accent coming out heavier than usual. While they haven’t known the Chantry Brother, he only truly slipped into his natural-born accent when he was angry. Here, he sounded more exasperated.

“Look, it’s door shaped. How am I supposed to know you can’t pick it,” It was Hawke, naturally.

Fenris rolled his eyes at the man’s antics. The man never thought, he just did whatever he felt even if it didn’t make sense. He opened his mouth to speak, but a familiar woman’s voice cut him off. One that he hasn’t heard in three years.

“Maker’s breath, Gare, just move over so I can burn it down.” Bethany Hawke sounded like she was just as done as Sebastian.

“Wait,” Fenris yelled out. “I’m standing on the other side of the door.”

“Fenris?” Hawke asked.

“No, it’s Anders.” He deadpanned.

“Shit, okay." He ignored the elf's sarcasm. "Which Fenris are you? Our Fenris from now, or past Fenris? Or is Vael a lying shitbag like Varric who made this time travelling crap up?” There was a thud and then Hawke grunted. “What the fuck, Beth?” If the elf had to guess, Hawke’s sister had hit with her staff.

“You don’t need to insult him!”

“Yes, I do!” Hawke snapped. “I got every right to insult Vael after the shit he pulled!”

“I am not lying, Hawke.” Sebastian’s voice was surprisingly filled with guilt. Fenris frowned; the Chantry Brother seemed like a good man, what could he have done that made him feel remorseful?

Then he remembered about the war between mages and Templars; that their group would side with the mages stuck in the Gallows. But Sebastian was devoted to his Chantry, why would he side with rebels?

But that didn’t matter, not when Anders was still unconscious and he doubted Justice had recovered. They needed to get out of here.

“Sebastian is telling the truth,” Fenris spoke over the cracking and snapping. He glared at the branches before him. “Fasta vass, how long is this barrier going to stand?”

“I don’t know; whoever woven it was quite powerful.” Bethany said, her voice full of wonder. She would have loved to meet the Forest Spirit. He gripped the staff.

“Who cares about that, we still don’t know which Fenris this is. Can’t have him ripping Vael’s heart when get rid of this thing.”

“If I was the Fenris of this time and I hated Sebastian enough that I would attack him on sight, do you think I would have such a calm reaction at hearing his voice?” He reasoned.

There is silence. “Well, why don’t you move out of Bethy’s path so she burn this down?” He tapped the wood.

Fenris started to nod, then stopped and moved. He told the girl—no, woman, the go ahead. He felt the tug of her magic and she summoned a large ball of fire.

When the flames died out, the others emerged around the corner. He wasn’t the one for any form of physical contact, but the urged took over after seeing Bethany for the first time in years. He didn’t even realize he had done it until Hawke made a noise.

He pulled back, embarrassed. “My apologies, it is good to see you again.”

Bethany smiled brightly, which he returned a small one of his own. “Don’t apologize! I happy to see you too.” 

Fenris examined her. She looked the same as he remembered. The elf noticed the differences in her personality. She wore traditional robes instead of pseudo armor and her staff was more noticeable than the one she used to have Despite how she acted with her brother, she was more passive in body language. The way she hunched slightly, the way she looks down at her feet once she realized she was looking him in the eyes. When he hugged her, she tensed as if she expected it to hurt.

“And I don’t get a hug?” Hawke joked, but the man didn’t have any sense of humor and came across as genuinely offended. Fenris was taken aback by how much Hawke aged in seven years. His face was heavy in worried lines, his beard was streaked with gray. The Hawke who was just upstairs was barely thirty, the man before him looked as if he was nearing fifty. And there was what he wore. It was red and black leather armor, which was normal for Hawke, but there were so many ridiculous and useless buckles it looked like he took fashion tips from the mage.

The elf decided to not point out how old Hawke looked and responded to his question. “I just seen you few hours ago, the last time I saw Bethany, she was being escorted to the Gallows.”

“Ah, but it has been a few years for us.” Sebastian spoke up. Fenris’s attention was pulled to the archer. He hadn’t change over the years like the Hawkes, except for a receding hairline. His armor was far more royal then what the elf was used to.

Hawke raised an eyebrow, “considering what happened the last time you seen Fenris, this is probably going far better than you imagined.”

The prince pursed his lips. “I do not think it’s wise to speak of that in front the younger Fenris.”

The rouge shrugged. “I don’t see why not. If Fenris knew about Anders blowing up the Chantry—

“Garrett!” Bethany shrieked and swatted her brother with her staff again, but it was too late.

Fenris’s mouth dropped and then closed and then fell open again only to be closed one more time. His mind drifted to the book of explosions the mage found and his uncuffed joke about placing a bomb under the Grand Cleric’s bed. He shuddered and decided to pretend that he didn’t hear what the rogue said.

“Stop hitting me dammit!” He shoved her a bit too roughly and Sebastian caught her. His expression was unreadable, but Bethany was furious at her brother’s slip up. Hawke continued. “Anyway, as I was saying. If Fenris knew, he would have stopped Anders. But he didn’t know, so why can’t I talk about it? You’re acting like what Anders did was a big deal.” Fenris didn’t miss the anger flashing in the prince’s over his face at Hawke’s dismissal.

The elf shook his head and coughed. “Right.” He gestured to the double doors, “the mage is down the hall, unconscious.” He fixated Sebastian with a glare. “You will not lay a finger on him." He growled. 

Sebastian shook his head. “I will not. I…have a better memory of this trip than either you or Varric, and didn't do anything to stop things to come.” He lowered his head, seemly ashamed of his past inactions. "I've come to realize and accept my part."

“Also, if he gets second thoughts, I’ll just kick his ass again.” Hawke slapped Fenris on the back, “don’t worry, I won’t let Vael kill your boyfriend.”

Fenris winced. The man didn’t know his own strength half the time. “He isn’t my boyfriend.”

“Fine, whatever, your crush.” Hawke waved him off and stalked to the doors. Fenris decided it worthless to correct the rogue. He followed and Bethany and Sebastian trailed behind. In the corner of his eyes, he saw the two lock fingers and share look affection. He didn’t comment, or couldn’t because Hawke practically shouted. “Anders!”

True enough, the mage was awake. Barely. He used one of the walls to lean on, and he staggered with each step. He looked up, alarmed. “Hawke?”

Fenris darted pass the rogue and went to the mage’s side. “Here, let me help you.”

He placed a hand on Anders’s back, and handed him the staff. His eyes widened for a moment but then softened. He smiled gently. “Thank you.” He whispered.

Fenris returned the smile. This close, he saw the crinkles around the mage’s eyes. It made Anders cuter—

No, he didn’t think the mage was cute.

His flickered up and down Anders’s body and then back to his face. Okay, the mage was cute. But only when he was quiet.

Fenris stepped back and let the man use the staff as a walking stick. “How are you feeling, mage?”

“Like ogre hit me over and over again with bolder.” Anders groused. “And Justice,” he was concern for his friend. “Maker, he’s so distraught. I don’t know how to help him. I don’t even know what happened.”

“A Desire Demon played with his emotions.” Fenris answered.

Anders grew alarmed. “That shouldn’t be possible! He doesn’t have desires.”

Hawke, who joined them, interrupted their conversation. “You three are in a freakish threesome relationship; I’m pretty sure Justice has _some_ desires.” He crossed his arms and ignored the glares he received.

Anders was going argue, but Bethany moved to stand next her brother. “Bethany?” He looked at the Hawke siblings, to Sebastian, and then at Fenris, only to go back to the Hawkes. “Maker’s breath, what are you three doing here?”

Sebastian answered. “For over a year, I’ve been tryin’ to find Varric. The Right Hand of the Devine is after him.” His body was tense and his fingers twitched. The way he eyed Anders made Fenris uncomfortable and the elf moved closer.

The mage, didn’t notice the hostility emanating from the archer. “Andraste’s tits! What did he do to deserve that?”

“He published his book too soon.” Bethany gave an uneasy smile and a shrug.

“The dwarf is off his game,” Hawke added. “He doesn’t know he led not only the Seeker here, but the armed forces of the Inquisition too. Sebastian here lent his men to the army before he knew that they were chasing after Varric, so we're here to save everyone's ass."

"All this for a book?" Fenris asked.

"Don't blame 'em," the rogue said. "The story is fine up up until the third act, and from there it goes to shit. Doesn't even make sense if you ask me." Then he grinned. "But despite our rivalry, he captured my badassery, so I like it." 

Fenris had his doubts Varric painted Hawke in a good light, but he decided not to point that out either. 


	12. Running out of Sand

Anders let out a scream of frustration. “I can’t find a damn thing in here!” Fire erupted from his hands, forming a ball, and the smell of burning paper filled the air.

The others lifted their heads from their cards at the noise. It was silently agreed upon that everyone was just getting in the healer’s way after thirty minutes. However, without the help of his younger self, Anders had been doing nonstop research for almost two hours. Books upon books, he scanned through to find anything about time travel. He still had piles of tomes and scrolls up a flight of stairs he needed to look through.

There was a moment of silence where the mage stood in the middle of the chard books, pinching his nose. “It’s not unjust if you do it out of frustration and not out of suppression of speech.” There is a pause. “It’s not the same thing!” Another one. “No, it isn’t! I didn’t burn the books to silent—what are you on about?”

The mage gasped. “Well, you’re a blight infested nug-whore!” Anders screwed his eyes shut. “Just because—oh you going to bring that up? Really? Really?”

There was a long pause and Ander’s eyes flew open and pointed at someone who wasn’t physically there. “Then maybe you should have merged with Howe then.” He thrust his arms up and yelled. “Fine! You win! I was being unjust! Maker’s breath.”

After a moment, he let out a scream and stalked off to continue his search.

Varric shook his head and sighed. “Oh, you two never change.” He turned to Fenris, who sat right next to him. He pointed over his shoulder and said, “you going to check on them?”

Fenris didn’t even bother to look away from his cards like everyone else. “No.” That’s what he said, but Varric could tell that he was going to. Some time in their game, the elf had pulled out a silver necklace from under his tunic. Two gems hung from the chain: one amber, the other a bright blue. He fiddled with both, rolling them with his fingers. He sat stiffer and held his cards tighter. Though Varric couldn’t see his face, due to his hair falling over his shoulders like curtains, he imagined Fenris’s eyes flickering at the direction to where Anders retreated from.

“You have been molesting that pretty, little, necklace this whole time,” Isabela said; she sat in-between the two elves and has been helping Merrill cheat and failing to cheat Fenris. “Is it valuable?” She scooted into Fenris’s space to get a better look, uncaring about the elf’s mild discomfort.

He clutched the two gems. “You keep your hands to yourself, woman,” he snapped.

“Oh, please, I wasn’t going to steal it,” she pouted, “I just want to examine it; make sure it’s good for you.”

“Now, now, Rivaini,” Varric had to remind himself that he wasn’t the one talking. His younger self was obscured by Aveline’s armor, thank the Maker for that one. “Let’s leave Old Man Broody to his jewelry. Based on the colors of those gems, I think it’s a gift from his husband. Husbands? Husbands.”

Varric scrunched his nose in thought. “When did you two, eh, three get married?” he asked Fenris.

That was the wrong thing to ask, and he knew it the question came out of his mouth. The three of them ultimately decided to pretend that wasn’t a falling out in the group. The dwarf asking when his two closest friends, one of whom he once considered a brother, when they got married didn’t sell the illusion.

“You weren’t there for their wedding?” Merrill asked, her large eyes grew bigger with confusion and concern.

Fenris pushed his hair back completely out of his face, revealing his sharp profile. “We were hiding with the Wardens after fleeing Kirkwall. While Anders and I stayed with them for a year, all of you left months earlier,” he explained.

“So, was it a big ceremony filled whores and wine?” Isabela wiggled her eyebrows.

The elf made an annoyed noise. “There was one whore, an Antivan slut who can’t keep his hands to himself.”

Isabela’s eyes brightened. “I think I know who you’re talking about, but continue.”

“As for the alcohol,” Fenris said, “too much of it. Our marriage was not breath-taking. Commander Surana got shitfaced one day and declared us married and we’ve been married since.”

“You two aren’t married?” asked his younger self.

Fenris gave the dwarf across from him a look. “We are, but I would not ask the specifics around Anders. The mage doesn’t care how we got married, he just likes introducing me as his husband. Our spirit on the other hates how lack-luster our ceremony was.”

“Our spirit?” Hawke repeated his tone questioning.

He snapped his head at the man, his hair fanning out. “Yes, our spirit,” he spat. The rogue held his hands up, dropping the subject.

“Varric,” both dwarves looked at Merrill. She blushed. “Oops! I mean the older Varric.”

He flashed her an easy smile, “what do you need, Daisy?”

“I was curious about the rest of us.” Her eyes widen, “not that it isn’t interesting to know things about you, Fenris! I am very happy for you and Anders! I just want to know how we’re doing.”

Fenris waved her apology off, “I will not be able to help you. Anders and I had little contact with any of you in the past few years.”

“Can’t say I know either,” Varric sighed, “the last I’ve heard you and Hawke were in Antiva.”

“What are you doing taking sweet little Kitten to Antiva?” Isabela asked.

The man opened his arms wide and was visibly annoyed. “Why am I being questioned for something I haven’t done yet? First, about how I will use Anders as dragon bait, now this. The only places I took Merrill are the Deep Roads and Orlais.”

“I quite enjoyed our trip to Orlais.” Daisy’s brows furrowed, “except when Anders and I got lost in that dungeon. I should have brought that ball of yarn with us.”

Hawke threw an arm over her shoulder and grinned broadly at her, “but without that trip, we wouldn’t be together.” The Dalish woman blushed and giggled.

Varric’s attention is pulled from the conversation when Aveline taps him on his shoulder with the back of her hand. He looks up at her confused. “I understand why the happy couple—

“Threesome!” Isabela interrupted, she ignored the “don’t call it that” from Fenris. “Don’t forget about Justice.”

“Don’t interrupt me, pirate!” Aveline snapped. “As I was saying, I know why those two are out of the loop, but you like to be on top of things. What’s going on?”

“What can I say? It’s hard to keep in touch when I got a Seeker of the Truth on my ass.”

“Now that sounds scary,” his younger self snarked. He popped his head around Aveline. “What in the Void is a Seeker of the Truth?” he asked.

“Some super-secret Chantry bullshit,” Varric said with a twitch of his shoulders. He never heard of them until The Seeker came into his life.

“The Seekers are a serious concern,” Sebastian interjected. He discarded his hand and turned his full attention on the older dwarf. Judging by his alarmed expression, Varric would wager Choir boy was telling the dwarf. “My friend, what did ye do to earn their ire.” His Starkhaven accent slipped.

“I wrote a book on this asshole,” he gestured toward Hawke, “and a semi-accurate depiction of the Mage uprising.” Fenris elbowed him in the ribs. “Ow! Watch where you put those things.” Meeting everyone’s gaze he admitted the truth. “Okay, I kinda made up some of the events of our lives.” He didn’t need to look at the elf to feel his glare bearing down on him. “Fine! Fuck, Broody, I fabricated most of it,” he glanced up at the elf next to him, “now hop off my dick.”

“You had me side with the Templars for the pettiest of reasons,” he sneered.

“At least you’re alive!” Anders shouted from on top of the stairs.

“Yeah, what Blondie said. I could have killed you off too.” Varric pretended he didn’t notice the odd looks everyone gave him. He turned back to Sebastian. “What exactly do these Seekers do?”

“They investigate corruption inside the Chantry—

Anders’s cut through with a sarcastic laugh. “They did a bang—eh, I mean, a great job in Kirkwall then!”

—and plots to overthrow the Chantry.” The archer glared at the direction Anders was at.

“No offense to the Chantry and by that I mean all of the offense, but Seekers sound fucking useless,” Hawke said bluntly. “This is why I swipe from the Chantry coffers when Mother forces me to go to services.”

Sebastian made a disgusted noise. “Hawke!”

“Hey, I don’t steal just from you. I also steal from the guard.” Isabela doubled over in laughter at Hawke’s frank confession.

With murder in her eyes, Aveline moved to get up, but the two dwarves put their hands her shoulders pushing her back down. 

"What? I give it to the homeless bums in the sewers. Right, Anders?" 

"No comment!" he called out.

Varric rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Okay, back on topic,” he said after the pirate calmed down. “How much do you know about the Seekers?”

Sebastian sighed. “Quite a bit actually, but I was sworn to secrecy.” He continued when he received unimpressed stares. “However, it seems they failed their duties, or from our perspective, will fail.” He takes a swig of his water canteen. “Two years ago, The Grand Cleric sent me Orlais to become one against my wishes. It is why I couldn’t help with your Deep Roads expedition as I promised. I met and briefly trained under the Right Hand of the Divine actually. Her name was Cassandra Pentaghast. I don’t know why I  did. She's a warrior, while the Left Hand is an excellent archer. Oh!” He snapped his fingers, his eyes bright as he remembered something important. “Her name is Leliana. She’s the Hero of Fereldan’s lover, she mentioned quite a bit when I talked to her.”

“Oh, my, I remember her.” Isabela cooed.

Whatever debauched story Isabela decided to share about The Hero and his lover, Varric didn’t hear. Cassandra Pentaghast was the Seeker who’s been chasing him for the past year. From Kirkwall to Rialto, to Kassel, to Val Royeaux, from all over Ferelden. She has been one step behind him, sometimes ahead of him. He didn’t even know the woman he’s been dancing with this entire time was the Right Hand of the Divine! This was bad. Very bad. He could handle Sebastian Vael. He could appeal to their old friendship, but if she showed up that was it. Game over.

Blondie, Broody, and he would be swinging from the gallows.

He scrambled to his feet. He ran in-between Hawke and Sebastian, pushing them out of his way. He took to the stairs. On top, Anders sat with books and scrolls on his lap. Startled by the dwarf, Anders looked at him wide-eyed.

“Blondie! Did you find anything?” Varric picked up a tome and flipped through the pages.

He waved his arms around. “Does it look like I found anything?” He shouted.

“You don’t understand.” He tossed the heavy book over his shoulder and ran his hand over his hair. “Listen, if you can’t find anything here, then we need to pack the fuck up and get the fuck out. Right now.”

“What’s going on,” Hawke demanded. The two of them looked down at the others. They all have gotten to their feet, perplexed by the dwarf’s outburst. Except for Hawke, who looked pissed.

He swallowed down his panic. “The Seeker who’s been following me is the Right Hand of the Divine.”

“The Right Hand of the Divine?” Anders asked.

Varric nodded.

“Well, that’s fucking fantastic!” He screeched. He shot to his feet, scrolls and books flew everywhere. “Where exactly can we go?” Hysteria crept into his voice.

“Shit, I don’t know.” Varric ran a hand through his hair again when an idea popped into his mind. “Look, I don’t know why the damn stature brought us here, but this shit show started back in Kirkwall.”

“Are you insane?” Anders was in full hysterics now. “I can’t go back to Kirkwall!”

“Why can’t you?” Merrill asked innocently.

He spun on his heels, long vest twirling around him. “I blew up the Chantry!” His eyes bugged out and he clapped his hands over his mouth.

Varric glanced between Blondie and the others. Fenris buried his head, probably embarrassed by his lover’s fumble. Hawke was impressed. Merrill covered her mouth as well. Isebela whistled. Aveline's mouth hung open.

“You’re shitting us?” his younger self asked. His voice was hallow, oh how the older dwarf could relate to that feeling. In the corner of his eye, the older dwarf saw Anders shake his head no.

“There goes our chance to lie out of this one,” he muttered under his breath.

Varric racked his brain to see if her remembered this conversation nothing came up. Fuck. They knew. They fucking knew and it still happened. He thought it was bad they found out about the Mage-Templar war, but they found out four years in advance what Anders will do and nothing happened to stop him. That would mean they were just as responsible...no. Fuck it. Varric didn't care anymore. he was tired of hating Blondie.

It was meant to happen, so fuck it. 

“You blew up the Chantry?” Sebastian asked in a hushed tone. He looked to Hawke. “He blew up the Chantry.”

“I know, I heard. Fucking crazy.” Hawke said mildly. He turned back to Varric and Anders. “We got a problem. Our Anders and Fenris have been missing this whole time. We can’t leave until we find them.”

Isabela was the next one to pull out of her stupor. “How exactly are we supposed to find them? This place is pretty damn big.” As if the Maker, or the Stone, or old Dalish gods heard her, the ruins began to tremble around them.

“What Maker’s name?” Anders started, but he was cut off by a high-pitched shriek.

_“She cried for retribution, for Justice, but you never came for her."_ With each, the voice grew more shrill and louder. _" **You died a free man, while she died in shackles!”**_   The other-worldly voice echoed around them. It was followed by a murderous roar.

**_“YOU DARE?”_ **

The shaking grew worse. Shouts could be heard. The ceiling cracked and chunks fell. A part of falling debris made Varric lose balance and he nearly toppled down the stairs A strong hand grabbed his jacket and dragged him away from the edge. He caught his breath and looked up at Justice’s stern face.

“I sound displeased.”

“An understatement, amatus.” Fenris said through gritted teeth. The two of them turned around to see the elf had crawled himself up the staircase. He was on the floor, his brands flickering on and off. 

Alarmed by seeing his lover in pain, Justice pulled Fenris to his feet and wrapped his arms protectively around the elf until it was over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> two more chapters. 
> 
> You might have noticed some minor tag changes. I wrote my last chapter a while back, but as the story progressed it didn't fit. So, I will post that as one shot separately.


	13. Until We Meet Again

“I could use some help over here!” Varric shouted over the sound of fighting. He fired rapid shots at an impressive Pride Demon’s back. It spun its ugly head toward him and roared. “Well, shit.” It drew back it’s hand and aimed to slice him into two. He rolled out of the way and the demons claws scraped against the stone floor. The roared again and charged at him.

**_“Get back, you fiend!”_ **

Justice placed himself between the dwarf and the demon. He slammed the butt of his staff on the ground and summoned a smite. The creature screamed in agony, but it didn’t die.

It was about to strike Justice when it was covered in ice. “Aveline!” Merrill yelled and the warrior ran at the creature, shield raised. She slammed into it, causing it to shatter in pieces.

But they couldn’t relax. The ruins had been flooded by demons and they just made it to the first level. Judging by the skeletons, the room used to be a dragon den. Varric scanned the room where he was needed most. Aveline and Justice were now teaming up to fight a cluster of shades controlled by a Sloth Demon. Merrill moved on to help his younger self and Isabela with a couple of desire demons. Hawke and Sebastian were fighting their own shades. And Fenris was…

Varric spotted three large Rage Demons in a circle. Amongst their flames, he saw white hair.

“Hold on, Broody!” He threw a smoke bomb onto the ground and reappeared behind the elf. He dropped an ice flask on the one in front of him. One. Two. Three bolts hit the demon. It waivered and slid back into the ground. Fenris lit his brands and cut the creature in half.

“This reminds you of the good ol’ days, Elf?” He threw another flask at the remaining demon.

“Yes, and I hate it,” Broody said, but the smile on his face told another story. He sliced the creature, in half and it joined its brothers on the other side of the Veil. Shades advanced on them, attracted to Fenris’s brands.

“I think you’re a bit rusty,” Varric teased. He aimed at the ceiling and fired. Bolts rained down the Fade creatures. “You and Blondie haven’t done much fighting over the years.”

“Only with each other,” Fenris shouted back. He weaved through, dodging the bolts and cutting the spirits. “I rarely put my sword to good use anymore.”

Varric took down the last remaining one down. He scanned the area once more and saw all the demons were taken care of. He rested Bianca over his shoulder and flashed the elf a cocky smile. “I’m sure you put your _sword_ to good use while fight Blondie.”

Fenris rolled his eyes and holstered his sword. He opened his mouth to retort, but a shriek interrupted him. “Fenris! Your hair is on fire!” Anders screamed. He summoned a cone of ice and froze Fenris in his spot.

Varric winced. The elf’s face was set in scowl.

Anders ran to Fenris’s side and used his magic to melt the ice. All the while, apologizing. “, I am so sorry, love! It was an accident! I just panicked when I saw the smoke. Don’t worry, I will get you out in a second, love. Everything will be fine.”

“Good job, Blondie, you turned Fenris into an elf-cycle,” he snarked.

“Its fine. Everything is fine. I can fix this.” Anders said more to himself then Varric.

The rest joined them. Merrill moved to Fenris’s other side and helped defrosting the older elf.

Isabela leaned against her knees. “With all these damn demons, it’s like we never left home,” she said in-between breaths.

Sebastian handed her a potion, “here, build back your strength. I’ll wage we be fighting more soon enough.” Isabela groaned and took it from him.

“Why don’t you just shatter the ice?” Hawke asked Anders.

“Because you can kill Fenris,” Aveline sighed and rubbed her temples, “and I don’t know about you, but I rather not fight Justice.”

The younger dwarf added, “and you know, we don’t want Old Man Broody dead.”

“Stop calling me that,” Fenris snapped. Most of the ice melted away and the two mages worked on his feet.

“I like it,” Varric grinned up at his old friend. “Suits you.” The elf scoffed, but ignored him.

“Your hair is a mess, sweet thing,” Isabela, said. And she was right. A good portion of his hair was gray. Varric shook his head. How he didn’t notice Broody’s hair was burning? “Let me fix it for you.” The pirate pulled out one of her daggers, “how short do you want it?”

“Just cut it short. It was splitting at the ends anyway,” Fenris said. He let her grab his hair and she cut it off.

“Oh, no, your beautiful hair!” Anders whined. He looked at the floor and then at the elf, and then back down to the floor.

“It will grow back,” Fenris said. Isabela let go of his hair and combed through it with her fingers to make sure it was even.

“Yeah, unlike the Chantry you blew up,” Hawke said. When everyone leveled a glare for his tasteless joke, he grew defensive. “What?”

“I think we should press on,” Aveline changed the subject. “We need to find Fenris and Anders soon and get out of here.”

“Creators, I’m so worried about them!” Merrill exclaimed. “Who knows what trouble they have gotten into.”

“Or caused,” Sebastian and the younger Varric muttered under their breaths at the same time.

“I don’t cause any trouble,” Anders said defensively. Now it was his turn to earn everyone’s glares. He held up his hands as to say what.

Varric adjusted Bianca onto his back and shoved his hands into his pockets. He gave Anders an accusatory look. “You blew up the Chantry and started a war,” he deadpanned.

“It only happened one time!”

“Once is enough!” he snapped. The vitriol in his voice shocked everyone including himself. He caught his younger self in the corner of his eye. The younger dwarf gripped Bianca tighter. His eyes narrowed into slits. Varric wanted to scoff at him; he hadn’t lived through the Chantry explosion. Not yet. He didn’t suffer endless nights of ‘what if’s’. All he saw was his friend, who did something wrong, get yelled at and…

…oh.

Varric dragged his hand over his face. If he wasn’t there that night to witness Blondie ascend down those stairs and give his terrifying speech, would he have been this angry all these years?

Varric didn’t know, but what he did know it would take a longer time to come terms of that night then a snap decision. “Maker’s breath, Blondie, I just decided to accept what happened was meant to happen. Don’t go and pissing me off.”

“Well, I’m sorry.” He turned around and crossed his arms. “I have no intention of doing it again if that means anything…” his words trailed off. The dwarf shook his head.

“At least now we know why there’s tension between you and them,” Isabela said, her tone light, but her eyes told Varric how she truly felt. Just like this time’s Rviani, she didn’t think there should be strain on their friendship.

“That is an understatement,” Fenris stated flatly. He ran his hand through his hair now short hair and shook any loose strands. Varric couldn’t help be jealous. With his hair cut, it was as if time hadn’t change the elf at all.

“Since we’re taking this brief break from demon killing,” Hawke said, “I gotta know, if Varric here responded to the Chantry boom by killing Anders off in his book, how did Sebastian handle it?”

“Not well,” Sebastian answered before anyone else could. Varric looked up at Choir Boy. His expression was hard, but unreadable. He was always the wild card. One moment, Vael would be all smiles and singing the Maker’s praises, but there was darkness in the Chantry Brother and he kept it buried.

Fenris took Sebastian’s dark mood as a threat. He pointed a clawed-like finger at Choir Boy, “keep your arrows to yourself, Vael,” he snarled. He dropped all pretenses of

“I am not a fool, Fenris. I know what ye can do,” he said. He reached behind his neck with both hands and took off a necklace. It was a heavy and thick, gold chain, something a Chantry Brother wouldn’t wear. “I got this at the Black Emporium.” He handed it out for anyone to see and Isabela snatched it before anyone else could.

“I’m keeping this,” her eyes were alit with desire and she hooked the necklace around her. It rested nicely under her golden choker and over the circle-plated necklace. “I didn’t know we had similar taste, Choir Boy.” She showed off her new necklace to Merrill, who cooed over it.

“We don’t. It is resistant to magic, or so the card said. I slipped it on once we found ourselves in the future,” he told her. He returned his focus to Fenris. “If I remember this trip, I will do my best to stop these terrible events from happening.”

“You are very optimistic about the future,” Fenris sneered. “Somethings are set in stone.”

Varric snorted, “Alright, I think we stalled enough.”

 “Old Man Broody is starting to sound like my old man with all this stone talk,” the younger Varric quipped.

“Yeah, let’s go find our Anders before he decides the ruins should be a prelude to the Chantry,” Hawke gestured over his shoulder.

“What is wrong with you?” Aveline asked while Merrill shook her head and muttered, “Vhenan, no…”

Hawke never gotten a chance to answer. Anders came up behind them. “I sense the taint. Young Me is heading this way.”

Varric clapped his hands. “Great, that saves us time.”  

They headed out, Anders leading them. The closer they got, they heard an all too familiar voice in the next room.

“It’s bad, Hawke. There’s a whole army outside waiting for us.”

Isabela gasped and clutched her new necklace. “That’s me.” Her words were barely audible over Hawke’s reply. “And? We fought armies before. I say we just kill them and be done with it.”

“Can we please not? I don’t want to fight anymore.” Blondie’s younger counter part. “Also, our other selves are just around the corner.”

And they were.

The two groups met at threshold. Varric noticed Hawke was in his Champion armor first and the corner of his lip twitched upward. The other rogue still wore it like a second skin. The second was the younger Fenris and Anders. The mage could barely stand on his two feet without the elf’s help. He clutched his staff with one hand and his free arm was swung over Fenris’s shoulder. The elf firmly gripped the mage around the middle. They both looked like shit and Broody in particular was ready to drown himself in wine.

Anders rushed over to the two of them and helped Fenris sit his younger self down on the ground and got to work. When his help wasn’t needed, he stalked over to the younger Varric. “I need your flask, dwarf.”

He slipped his hand into his duster and handed the sweet contents over. “You do know if drink yourself into a stupor this is how you will lose your memories again?”

The elf answered by downing the cheap mead in one go. He grimaced and thrusted the metal container back into the younger dwarf's hand.

Isabela walked up to her younger self like she would a mirror. A cocked hip and a painted smirk. The younger woman matched her stance and they both spoke at the same time. “Is it hot in here, or is it just me?” They both ignored Aveline’s groans. Varric chuckled, but his humor masked his true intentions. He looked her up and down. Despite now her forties, though she would deny the fact until her dying breath, the pirate still looked the same. She dressed more modestly, if one can say wearing leggings and a coat in cold climate was dressing modest. She caught him staring and she raised a thin eyebrow. They hadn’t seen each other since that business with King Alistair and they didn’t part on good terms.

Hawke waved his hands between the two pirates. “You’re seriously flirting with yourself? You’re the same person.”

“Anders flirted with himself. He probably did more,” Isabela said with a shrug.

“He’s the kind of person you shouldn’t imitate,” he stated. He looked down at their Anders. “I mean look at him, with his fucking feathers.” While his tone and words sound harsh, he grinned at his old friend

Despite everything Hawke had put Blondie through, Anders still had a soft spot for the rogue. He returned the smile and asked. “We haven’t seen each other in years and you insult my clothes?”

“That isn’t true. I told this one,” he pointed at the mage next to him, “that he’s in a freaky ass relationship, which is a fact.”

The younger elf and mage glared at the older man, and no doubt their older counter parts did as well. Varric didn’t blame them, but he had to concede Hawke was right too. Oh sure, they’re relationship was normal, but then they throw a spirit-shaped wrench into the mix and seven years later Varric still couldn’t get over the oddity of it.

Neither mage or elf corrected him, however. The younger Hawke did. “They aren’t together,” he stated bluntly.

Hawke blinked. “They’re not?”

“Yes, you fool!” Fenris snapped. “I told you several times that we are not together and you keep on insisting we are.”

The younger Isabela snapped her fingers. “Oh, so that’s why you decided to get shit faced when we get back home. Hawke drove you to drink.” Fenris responded with a grunt and she offered her own flask to him and that was emptied just as quickly.

Hawke shrugged and ignored the topic of being wrong. “Listen up, there’s a huge fucking army outside these ruins. I sent Vael to talk them out of storming here and killing Varric,” well shit, there went his week. “So, I’m pretty sure that means we got five minutes to figure out a plan.” The dwarf’s eyebrows shot upward. Choir boy was here and he isn’t part of the group that wanted to kill them? Briefly, his eyes met with Fenris’s. His expression was hard and suspicious, but he shook his head. Don’t say a word the gesture said. Varric held in a sigh. Why can’t anything be easy for them?

Hawke continued. He glanced down at the healers, “you said you found a way to get you guys back home?” That was good news. Focus on the good news and not the whole horde of Chantry soldiers outside.

Younger Anders’s eyes lit up, “yes, I did!” He tried to stand up, but the older mage pushed him back down. He scowled at his future self, who returned the look tenfold. “Stay put. I’m almost done.”

“Maker’s breath, your almost bad as Wynne!" Anders gasped and clutched his chest, "which means I’m almost bad as Wynne!”  

The younger Hawke moved closer to them, “what did you find?”

The younger mage successfully pushed his older self off of him, causing the other to cross his arms in a huff. “I found a book that has the same cat statue and a detailed explanation on what we have to do. It’s in my bag. I marked the page with a leaf when I showed the others,” he shrugged off his pack and put it on his lap. He dug through it and pulled out hefty book, which he handed it to his older self. Anders stopped trying to heal his younger self in favor of the book. He scanned throughuntil he found the page.

The younger man got up, now that he was free. “I actually found two more,” he turned to Merrill. “There’s an ancient elvish book for you.” He pulled another book, this one thin and small. The cover was green and even from where Varric stood, it was covered in a delicate leaf pattern. 

It was elvish alright. 

Daisy trotted over and accepted the gift. “Why thank you, lethallin!”

The older healer got up, nose still in book, “you can thank me by helping set up the spell.”

“What do you need me to do?” she asked.

He held the book up for her to see, but Varric sure as shit couldn’t tell what they were looking at at this distance. “I need you to draw a large circle and the cat figure inside it. I will take care of the symbols.” She nodded earnestly and they moved away from the group.

Aveline crossed her arms. Her eyes darted between Fenris and Anders. "What happened to you two?"

Anders opened his mouth to answer, but Varric’s past self-cut him off. “Sorry for interrupting what would be a nice story, Blondie, but Old Hawke said something about a freaking army wanting to kill me?”

Varric took a step forward now, “you know my young friend, I too want to know more this army. Among other things. Like Choir Boy?”

“Oh boy, where do we start,” Isabela said. Hawke scowled, his expression demanded she get to the point. “Right, about a year ago Hawke grew tired of Sebastian being a real stick-in-the-mud. So, us two, along with kitten and Sunshine, went to Starkhaven to help him get over his issues.”

She was being purposely vague. It couldn’t because she didn’t know that their younger selves didn’t know, she remembered probably just as much as Sebastian. Varric’s eyes slid over to the younger Anders who listened with rapt attention. She was being vague for him, but Varric knew Blondie. He was curious and if she didn’t satisfy his questions.

She smiled sweetly at Choir Boy. “We convinced Sebastian to rethink what happened in the past and he’s on his side.”

“And how exactly did you do that?” he asked.

“I punched you in the face and she stole your shit.” Hawke answered. “By all accounts, you should still hate us.”

“It was Bethany,” Isabela corrected.

“So, what, Sunshine batted her eyes and told Choir Boy to knock it off?” Varric asked. The pirate nodded while Hawke glowered.

“And what about this army?” Aveline inquired. “I believe it’s a bit more pressing information than Sebastian’s reaction to what’s to come.”

“I was getting to that, Lady Manhands,” she snapped. “Maker, I’m glad you left her with Kitten in Antiva,” she said to Hawke. She coughed and huffed. “Anyway, the Divine is gathering an army to put an end to the Mage-Templar war. And they aren’t here to kill you, Varric, which I know puts a damper on Hawke's mood. From what sounds like, since you wrote your novel of yours, you put yourself as the star witness. Now, if they find Hawke or know Anders is alive, then…well its best they don’t find out.” Varric nodded. Star witness certainly sounded better then hangman’s noose.

“Does that answer any questions?” Hawke asked. He glances at the pirate, "and I don't want Varric dead. Just slightly maimed." Two snorts of disbelief came from the dwarves in questioned. 

“Actually, I have a couple Hawke,” Anders started and they all should have seen this coming. “What twisted Sebastian’s knickers in a bunch? And why does it feel like everyone knows but me?”

“Oh, that’s right you weren’t there when I told baby-face Fenris,” Hawke said. “You—

“I blew up the Chantry!” Fenris shouted over Hawke, taking everyone by surprise. Varric swirled to his left and gaped at the elf. The elf rubbed his temples and close his eyes; the regret of his words etched on his face.

“Wha-what?” Anders stammered. He fidgeted with his staff.

“I blew up the Chantry,” he repeated, quieter this time. Not looking at Anders at all. 

“Why…?” he asked slowly, his eyes darted around the room as if anyone else would have the answers he sought. But everyone else was too busy to staring at the older elf in either amusement or shock.

“I missed our anniversary,” Fenris answered without missing a beat. “It was an anniversary present.” No sooner the words flew out of his mouth, he scrunched his nose and repeated his obvious lie under his breath.

Varric slapped his hand over his face and he wasn’t the only one. He heard Sebastian do the same right behind him. “Maker’s balls, Broody, what kind of lie is that?” he whispered. Though this was Anders and he couldn’t tell a lie nor could he spot one either.

“…you blew the Chantry, because you forgot our anniversary?” Anders asked for clarification.

“Yes….in hindsight flowers would have worked just as well.”

Silence filled the air around them, but only for a moment. It started with lips quivering. Eyes welling up. Shoulders tensing. A hitch of the breath. “You started a revolution? For me?” his voice cracked, “that’s so romantic.” He croaked out before he covered his face and silently cried. Fenris darted away from the larger group and rushed over to the mage’s side. He wrapped his arms around Anders and pulled him into a hug. Anders hunched over and buried his face into the crook of the elf’s neck and cried harder.

“I am not drunk enough for this,” the younger Tevinter elf stated flatly. Varric pealed back his coat and grabbed his own flask out of the inner-breast pocket. By the time he crossed the room, Rivaini already handed her own to Fenris. He finished them both off like he did the other two; with a disgusted grimace. He swayed a bit, no doubt feeling the effects of mead and rum.

Aveline wave an arm at the two hugging. “That’s your future.” The elf groaned and swore in his native tongue.

“Varric,” both dwarfs turned to the sound of the Hawke’s voice. The younger Hawke pointed at his future self, to show that it was him who spoke, while the older rogue pointed at the older dwarf. Varric rubbed the side of his head. He couldn’t wait until they sent the kids packing. “When the Chantry picks your ass up, are you going to tell them this version of events?”

“Ancestors no. As far as I am concern none of this happened.” He wished he didn’t give all his drink to Broody.

“We’re finished! We…by the Dread Wolf, what’s wrong with Anders?” Merrill asked. They looked to see the Dalish woman had returned. She, however, was focused on the mage. He was calmed down enough that he wasn’t visibly shaking and was now sniffling.

“Never mind, Kitten,” the younger pirate stalked over to the other woman and hooked their arms together. There was a bounce in her step. “Come one everyone, let’s go home.”

 

The actual ritual to send themselves to the right time was lack luster in Varric’s opinion.

Their past counterparts just stood in a giant chalk circle. There symbols surrounding the circle, and of course, Daisy’s drawing of the Tevinter Hairless was right in the middle. Anders chanted. With one hand he held the book, with the other he waved in the air. He summoned a wisp of magic that swirled around his hand. It glowed blue, the same color of the Fade cracks that flickered off and on over his body.  

The chalk circle raised off the ground and spun into a twirl. That was the last thing any of them saw before a burst of light flashed. It blinded them for a moment, but slowly they gained their vision back.

The circle was gone and was left was a golden statue.

“Fenris! Look how cute it is.” Anders cooed and moved to grab the statue. Fenris wrapped his arms around the mage's middle and spun him around so he wasn’t facing the artifact. “I wasn’t going to touch it,” he whined, but his voiced dropped and his skin glowed. Justice had taken over. “Do not trust Anders. He lies! He was going to touch the feline!” The spirit bellowed. 

Isabela patted the spirit on the shoulder, “we know, big guy, we know.”

“Let’s get moving,” Hawke ordered, "before Anders sends us into the future. Again."

They left what used to be an old dragon and the cat statue behind. They continued for a while until they were down the hall that led to the main hall. Justice finally relinquished control to Anders, who pouted.

“Stop making that face, mage,” Fenris said.

“I will stop making this face when I get my cat.”

“We’re not getting a cat.”

Anders huffed and turned his head away from Fenris. “Oh, get him a damn cat,” Isabela interjected. She rested an arm around his waist. “He’s been through enough, let him have this one thing.”

“Thank you!” he kissed her on the top of her head and threw an arm around her shoulder.

Fenris went to argue, but instead he said, “Bethany?”

It was Bethany Hawke. She was running down the massive steps. Her old Circle robes bellowed around her as she made her way toward them. She stopped briefly when she heard her name called. She grinned and waved her hand. They met her half way.

Hawke got to her first. “What’s wrong?” he demanded.

She took a deep breath and exhaled. “Sebastian convinced the Seeker and Knight-Commander Cullen to let him speak to Varric,” she turned to address the dwarf, “if you come quietly, you won’t be hurt. But if they come in to get you…” her words died out. “I’m sorry, it’s the best Sebastian could do for you.” She wasn’t happy about it. None of them were. Hawke and Anders voiced their objections immediately.

He opened his arms for a hug, which she accepted. “Don’t sweat it, Sunshine,” he patted her back before stepping out of her arms. “Well, I guess it’s time to face the music.”

“Fuck that. I am not letting the Chantry have you,” Hawke pulled his daggers off his back and twirled them. “I say let them come. We done it before, we can do it again.”

Isabela put a hand on his shoulder, “think of Merrill, Hawke.”

It was a cheap move, but it worked. He calmed down at the mention of the Dalish mage. “So, what we let this Seeker bitch dwarfnap Varric?”

“We can always break him out,” Anders suggested. “I have experience with breaking and entering Chantry run prisons.”

“No!” Everyone screamed. He winced and held his hands up in defeat. “Blondie, they think you’re dead and it’s going to stay that way. You hear me?” the mage nodded. “Good.” He made his way the stairs and stopped before he hit the first step. He turned around and dug out his coin purse and pack of cards. He tossed them to Fenris who caught them with ease.

He turned back around, because he didn’t want to see their frustrated faces. He knew Hawke twitched and scowled, hated he couldn’t fight his way through the problem. Isabela pretended she wasn’t bothered by the outcome, but she wanted them all to walk out. Bethany felt guilty, probably, that she couldn’t do more. Anders was helpless and most defiantly was guilty. The what if’s running through his head; Justice demanding action over complacently. And Fenris, stoic as always, would regret they never got a chance to reconcile properly and Varric’s departure will be on his mind.

No, it was best he just left and skipped the goodbyes. He raised a hand and waved. “Play around for me, and next time bring Aveline and Daisy along. Our little family ain’t complete without them.”

He made it half way up the steps before Hawke shouted, “next time there will be the pit-a-patter of little feet. Merrill just gave birth to twins, Carver and Lyna. You better have good nicknames when you meet them.”

The news lifted the tension off his back and he found himself grinning the rest of the way

Sebastian paced the top of the stairs back and forth. He glanced between the entrance way and chewed his bottom lip.

“Choir Boy, long no time see,” Varric said smoothly.

Sebastian halted in his pacing and smiled, but it quickly turned into a frown. “Did Bethany—?”

“Yeah, Sunshine warned me,” he waved the prince off. “Didn’t get a chance to play catch up with the others. So,” he drawled, “you promised to try to prevent all this from happening.”

He looked away. “I didn’t try hard enough it seems. For the past four years I thought what I could have done differently. Where I went wrong. I admit, I even contemplated on killing Anders, but I never could bring myself to. It wouldn’t have solved anything and he didn’t deserve to die for something he had yet to do.”

“What changed your mind?” What was left unsaid was _you could let the Chantry know Anders is alive right now, and who would stop them?_ The answer would be, of course, Justice, but that didn’t need to be said either.

His lips twitched upward. “Hawke can be persuasive when he needs to be.”

Varric chuckled. “You are not wrong about that,” he rubbed the back of his neck, “come on, Choir Boy. I got a date with a Seeker and I don’t want to be late.”


	14. Spoiled by Magic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to thank everyone who's enjoyed this story. I had a lot of fun writing it.

Fenris stood outside the clinic doors. Or limped. Last night, he embarrassedly stepped on a piece of glass.

He blamed Varric and his persuasive tongue. The dwarf had the ability to sell water to fish. It was Varric’s suggestion to visit see the mage, despite all of his attempts avoiding the healer the past two weeks. Two weeks since the incident in the Black Emporium. The incident that gave him false memories.   

He hasn’t been successful so far. Hawke took him and the mage to the Qunari compound a week ago and something changed between them. There were no arguments. No name calling. No threats. They were companionable the entire day.

Off course, one comment from Isabela about getting close with Anders put him off. Sebastian contemplated how they looked good together. It drove Fenris to drink for a couple of days, because surely, they didn’t know about the false memories he harbored. Thoughts of the future drove him to drink for a few more days and he soon found himself drinking a week straight.

That is where Varric found him. On the floor of his wine cellar. Utterly wasted. Blood flowing from his foot.

And in-between cleaning him up and roping him into a bet, Varric told him to go see the mage in the morning.

Fenris never made it in the morning. It was night now and the light was out over the clinic door. No doubt the mage was up late at night writing his Manifesto. He knocked a few times. With his gauntlets on, the noise was loud and demanding.

When no one answered the door, Fenris wondered if the mage was off participating in his underground instead.

Should he leave and come back again? No, he didn’t want the cut become infected. He could use alcohol, but he knew he should stay away from wine. He’s been drinking for a week straight to get the false memories out of his mind.

Should he go inside and wait for Anders? It would be easy to break down the door. It was a thin piece of wood and lock. He could find the tools to help himself and pay the mage back later.

With his decision made, the elf pushed passed the door. He closed it behind himself, to give the illusion that he didn’t break the clinic’s door. The clinic was pleasantly empty, but still well-lit for him to see. He limped to the far walls where the mage kept most of his medical supplies. He needed tweezers and elfroot, nothing else.

Fenris didn’t bother being quiet. He dug through boxes and drawers. Focused on his task, he did not hear the door separating the clinic from the backroom creek open.

Anders opened the door far enough to poke his head through the gap. It was just supposed to be a lazy evening in. He would sit at his desk and pen his fifth draft his Manifesto. He didn’t even bother wearing clothes.

But life wasn’t easy for a sewer hermit. Someone, or more likely a group of templars, banged on his door. He almost keeled over in terror. He bolted to the back room, put on the first clothes he could find, he grabbed his emergency pack, his mother’s pillow, and his staff.

He was just about to head for the trap door when he heard…well nothing. There was noise. Someone, and just one person, was rummaging in his drawers. But there were no chairs broken, no cots busted, no potion bottles being shattered. It was a burglar.

So, despite his better judgement, or actually Justice’s, he decided to check who was in his clinic. He zeroed on the left side of the room where he put shelves next to the windows.

That is when he spotted white hair and pointed ears. It was Fenris and he looking through his medical supplies.

“Fenris?”

The elf jumped and spun around to face the mage. He winced at the sudden pressure on his foot. He wanted to ask the mage how long he’s been here, but his mouth went dry when the mage came out of his bedroom.

Anders wore a white tunic. It was loose and thin, and the collar was cut low. And then there were his sheer tights. The outfit left nothing to the imagination. With the false memories, Fenris didn’t need help to imagine what was under the thin materials.

Did Isabela dress the mage?

“What are you doing?”

Fenris coughed and rubbed the back of his neck. “I stepped on a piece of glass and I acquire some assistance. I thought you were out and I came in and remove it myself.”

“Oh!” Anders was relieved. It was only Fenris. Two weeks ago, he would have told the elf get out and make a big scene, but the last time they saw each other was nice. And even if they weren’t on good terms that day, he could handle one grumpy elf. “I thought the banging on my door was a Templar raid. Come on, let me take a look at your food.”

Fenris followed the mage to a cot near his desk. He eyed the curve of the mage’s rear. He couldn’t compare it to a woman’s, such as Isabela’s, however it was…cute.

“Sit here and I will get my tweezers and some hot water.” He leaned his staff against his desk and sauntered off.

Fenris’s gaze followed Anders as he walked away. He talked about what happened his day, but Fenris tuned him out and just enjoyed the show Anders unknowably put on. The mage had grabbed a bowl, tweeters, and piece of cloth. When he went to the water pump, he bent over slightly.

He tilted his head to the side and his lips twitched upward. From this angle, his ass was rounder. He wonder how it felt in his hands. He sat up straighter and shook his head. Fasta vas, he must be drunk still. There was no other reason why he was checking the mage out.

Anders returned with a steaming bowl, a towel over his shoulder, and tweezers. His mouth was moving, breaking the illusion of silence. “The most embarrassing part is Aveline didn’t show up and now this guardsman, Donnic, I think is his name, believes Hawke is in love with him. Can you believe that? Hawke can’t even admit he finds men attractive, let alone go out of his way to date a man.”

He put the bowl down onto the desk and sat down in front of Fenris. He tapped his thigh, “give me your foot.” The elf did so without any complaint. Anders grabbed his ankle and examined sole with delicate fingers and a keen eye. “That’s in there deep. It’s a good thing you came straight away or it would get infected.” He grabbed the cloth and dabbed it in water, “this will sting a bit.” He cleaned the wound, causing Fenris to wince.

“So, where was I? Aveline has one more idea how to woo her crush. She wants to take him on a romantic stroll, but she expects trouble. Now Hawke, Isabela and myself have to go out tomorrow and fight anyone who might want to interrupt her date.” He put the towel down and picked up the tweezers and sterilized it with magic and water. “You should come along. Mostly to watch Sebastian’s reactions to Isabela’s love advice. Well, more like sex advice,” he paused, “okay, hold still. I don’t want the glass to break in half. That would be nasty.”

Anders bent over his foot and began the slow process of removing the shard out.

Fenris’s breath hitched at the sudden pain. He focused on something else instead. Like Anders’s pink lips. The way he would bite his bottom lip in thought. The way his tongue darted over the top in concentration. Fenris licked his own lips. He visualized himself kissing the mage. He stood on his toes and Anders bent over. Nimble fingers threaded through his hair, while his hands explored the mage’s cute butt.

No. He had to stop. He will not suffer a hard on in the mage’s presence. He forced himself back from the false memory and back to reality. He never saw himself kiss the mage. He would never kiss the mage.

When he refocused, the mage finished removing the glass piece and now healing the cut.

And still talking.

“And yesterday, I was over at Merrill’s because she made cookies. She showed me this cute green book covered in leaves. Said it was present but she doesn’t remember who gave it to her,” he rattled off, “well, whoever gave it to her needs to be stabbed. Repeatedly. Because despite being cute, it had information about that creepy ass mirror of hers. You know the one that has demon in it? I like Merrill, but I hate her filthy blood magic. It’s just wrong, but I don’t have to tell you that. You’re the only person who agrees with me. Oh, I’m all done.”

Fenris blinked rapidly at all the information Anders dumped on him. “What?”

“I said I was done.”

He shook his head again. “I apologize,” he slowly removed his leg from Anders’s person.

The mage smiled and got up. He raised his arms over his head and stretched his back, popping his bones. The hem of the tunic traveled upward revealing his pale stomach. Light-colored hair and freckles dusted trail down to his tights. Fenris licked his lips again. The outline of his cock was visible. He wanted to reach out and caress it.

Fenris shot to his feet and gripped the mage’s cheeks and pulled him down into a kiss.

Anders made noise of shock, but quickly accepted the elf’s advances. He lowered his hands to the elf’s hair. He tangled his fingers in the white locks. His head buzzed with excitement, and it wasn’t just his own. Justice flashed images through his mind. _Lick the elf’s throat,_ the spirit seemed to suggest. How could Anders say no?

He dropped his hands to the elf’s hips. He picked Fenris up and put on his desk. He didn’t allow the elf to recover. He grabbed a clump of hair and pulled Fenris’s head back and gave himself access to the elf’s neck.

He swiped his tongue in one long lick, then another. And another. Justice crawled to front of his mind. He didn’t take over, but he hovered just below the surface. He withered and hummed under the song that emanated from the elf’s skin.

Fenris swallowed back a groan and it came out as a hiss. His brands, always a source of pain, felt like nothing. The spirit within the mage soothed the lyrium. He ran his hands down Anders’s back, careful not to rip the tunic. He slowly rolled his hips against Anders, grinding their growing erections together. Anders moaned over his throat.

Anders placed light kisses up his neck to his jaw to finally back on lips. Fenris opened his mouth to invite the mage in. Without breaking contact, he crawled up top of the elf. He rocked against Fenris. Rubbing over the elf’s groin. Metal claws dug into his back, tearing at his tunic. He whimpered at the pain and pleasure. He rocked harder.

They rutted with no rhythm until they reached their climax. They shuddered and trembled and came at the same time.

The broke apart and Anders rested his forehead against Fenris’s. The sound of them panting was the only noise inside the clinic.

“Maker’s breath,” he whispered before he pulled his head back, “most patients just say thank you.”

“I am sorry,” though Fenris didn’t feel sorry.

“Don’t apologize. That was the best kiss I had in years,” his voice was breathless and heavy. “I don’t where this came from, but I’m not complaining.”

“I am not sure what came over me—

“I did,” Anders cut off. He flashed one of his crooked little grin. “I came over you.”

Fenris chuckled and dropped his head onto the mage’s shoulder. Sleepiness hit him and all he wanted to do was crawl into bed. It would require him drudge through Darktown to his wine cellar.

As if he read his mind, Anders asked, “do you want to stay?” He stroked Fenris’s chest and cusped his cheek at the same time. “We don’t have to do anything else.”

Fenris didn’t know if he should or not. He never slept with Isabela after they had sex. He didn’t even bother taking the strangers he’s been with to a private room, let alone a bed.

Was it normal to share someone’s bed after being intimate? Or is it something Anders wanted? He searched for his answer in the mage’s eyes. The pools of amber were hopeful and desperate.

“Yes, I would like that.”

The mage brightened. He wordlessly got off the elf and helped him down from the desk. He grabbed his hand and led him to his bedroom. It was small and made smaller by how packed full it was. It was alit by Fade light, which it was

Fenris sat down on the narrow bed that was up against the wall. Anders dug through a pile of clothes and pulled out two trousers. He handed the smaller one over to the elf.

Fenris turned around and removed his gauntlets. He peeled off his tunic next and then his leggings. He was too tired to care they were dirty. After a week of heavy drinking and little sleep, the intense orgasm snapped the rest of his strength.

He slipped on the borrow pants. It fit better around the waste then what he expected, but Anders was skinner then most human men and he was broader than most elves. He had to roll up the legs several times so he didn’t trip over the bottoms however.

When he turned around to slip into bed, the mage was already lounging in it with his head propped up by his head. His back was to the wall and left plenty of space for Fenris.

“If someone told me two weeks ago that you would dry hump me on my desk and I’d invite you to my bed afterwards, I wouldn’t have believed them.Actually, I don't believe it just happened anyway."

Fenris crawled into bed next to the mage. When he was settled, Anders pulled the covers over them and rested his head on Fenris’s chest. “I feel something changed between us, but I don’t know what it is,” he said quietly.

Fenris knew the answer. Or he thought he did. The false memories showed him a future where him, an elf from Tevinter, was married to a mage.

And the spirit possessing that said mage.

But the future wasn’t set in stone, so the elf kept his answer to himself. “Does it matter? Go to sleep, mage.” He stroked Anders’s silky hair.

Anders snorted. “I guess not. We’re going have to talk about this, but it can wait until the morning.”

Fenris nodded, "I suppose we should," he added after a moment, “good night, mage”

“Good night.”

Fenris closed his eyes and was on the verge of falling asleep when his mind was reminded of another time, in another place, someone told him this was his future.

And if it was, then the future wasn’t so bad.

**Author's Note:**

> I had this idea in my head for months now. After working nonstop on my original content, I needed a break and I'm writing this. I have a good chunk done, and I figured why start posting it now? I have other fanfics I need to get back into, but before I move onto them I need to get DA/fenders out of my system. I will add related works to this piece in a series, but nothing that would constitute as a sequel. 
> 
> I will try to post weekly.


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